The Passion of the Dark Side
by CyberSpaceWitch
Summary: The events of and leading up to The Force Awakens told from the perspective of a Force-sensitive slave serving on Starkiller Base. Unrepentant trash made with love and all due respect to canon. [Strong M] [OC, No Mary Sue] [Plot with Porn] [f/f, f/m, F/m (Femdom), m/m/f, BDSM, inappropriate use of the Force, Phasma, Hux, Kylo Ren, others] Under revision as of December 2016
1. 221784-R

Loop, stitch, repeat. Lines of red thread began to fill in the space bordering the interior of a white hexagon. Once completed, I pulled some white embroidery thread from the spool and threaded my embroidery needle. Next, my quick, repetitive movements gave the thread the shape of a white circular mouth rimmed with teeth. At least, that was how I'd always imagined the First Order insignia looked. A creation of childhood imagination that I'd never completely shed with age. Loop, stitch, repeat. Machine precision produced the outline of the insignia patches and rank bands, but it was slave fingers that carried out the finer detail work. It ensured that our work was never truly finished and that we rarely had the chance to be idle.

Across the small work table sat my silent companion in this tedious task, Dakan, and he was not speaking to me today. I didn't care. Dakan talked too much, and we had a lot of work to do. On the tabletop between us sat the container of unfinished rank armbands. There were hundreds to get through by tomorrow, when they would be used for a mass promotional ceremony.

Another line was finished and that one joined the small stack of completed patches inside of a separate container. I grabbed another from the box, this one an armband for a lieutenant with white Arabesh lettering on black, reading "Power".

Inspiring.

My fingers moved quickly, passing the needle through the fabric and out the other side, line after line. In a few minutes, that one was finished as well. I grabbed another.

With so much practice, Dakan and I were making quick work of it. At our current pace, we might even be able to finish in time for the evening newscast. If I was careful I would be able to listen from the outer edges of the group of personnel as they attended. It was my only line to the galaxy and the countless worlds that existed outside of this one. The galaxy seemed to be a savage place. Certainly more so than the ordered, sterile corridors an interior structure of Starkiller Base. It was not easy, but it was better than being subject to the lawless frontier outside of First Order control.

Another band was complete. If Armatta had been assigned this task with me instead of Dakan, doubtless the chore would have taken twice as long. I glanced up to the dark-skinned male slave across from me surreptitiously. I could see that his brow was tense with worry. I could practically smell it on him.

As though he could sense me looking at him, his eyes flickered up to mine before quickly looking away, a learned reflex. I might have been a few years younger than he, but I had an advantage: my Gaze. The Gaze, a childish, private name for my talent. Whereas most slaves were impotent in their anger I had been granted, by some trick of fate, a weapon that gave my emotions more weight. When I willed it, my eyes could cut into another as deeply as a knife, or at least hurt like one. It had not won me any friends, but I didn't care.

I let my eyes linger on Dakan, my hands never slowing in their task, before lowering them once more. One line of white embroidery thread followed another until a letter was filled. With hours to go before we were finished, my thoughts began to wander again as it had been doing with more frequency the last few days.

For sixteen years, almost to the day, I had been in service within the First Order's hidden stronghold. My thoughts of late had been on the day that I was recruited, or what little I could still recall of it. Another armband was finished as though on autopilot, this one reading "Tarkin."

I knew that I was the product of a raid on the town that was once my home, one among countless others. Of course, they wouldn't call it raiding or pillaging. It was a 'resource gathering mission,' routine and methodical. It didn't matter that those resources were originally in the possession of the colonists. That day, I became well-acquainted with death.

I was too young to really understand what was happening. I just knew that the soldiers in white armor were efficient and pitiless, and in their wake they left ruin. They weren't indiscriminate in their death-dealing, to be sure. Children, human children, up to five years old, were taken along with anything else of value. The ones who didn't fit that profile were not so fortunate. I had a family one moment, and the next I had nothing.

I did not resist when the white soldiers took me with them.

I remembered the faces of the other children who'd been with me. There were two boys and two other girls. The soldiers watched over us all with identical, impassive faces, and I remember thinking that that their helmets looked like skulls. Monstrous skulls, though, with angry eyes and mouths that grinned and frowned at the same time. I didn't realize that they were all human underneath until much later.

While the other children wailed, beside themselves with too much terror and grief for their young minds to comprehend, I watched our captors silently. I made myself like the troopers were: blank, unreadable, protected behind a shell. I was four.

I felt something then, but it was not what I expected to feel, nor what thought I should be feeling; despair, shock, or terror. Instead, deep inside of myself, I felt the first spark of anger.

Prior memory was lost to the horrors of that day. I could not remember details of my past life, but I would never forget the smell of burning corpses. I could almost smell it again, now curling in my nose.

"Armata was gone all night again," Dakan said, startling me out of my thoughts. The smell of smoke faded and I found myself back beneath the sallow lighting of our quarters.

"Yeah, so?" I returned to my task, disgruntled that . He sighed. The sound of his breath was loud and grating to my ears.

"Aren't you worried that-" he started.

"No," I interrupted. "I'm not worried. She's probably in some petty officer's bed."

"You shouldn't be so quick to judge her, Riala," he said. Astonished, I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. His eyes were conspicuously down. Was he _looking_ for a fight?

"I'm not judging her. I don't care what she does with her body, as long as I don't have to hear about it." I glanced around to the dingy grey walls of our tiny living space, but found no sign of the monitoring equipment we were told was everywhere. I looked back down to the fabric in my hand and started another line. "If some low-rank decides to hit her after he's done with her, it's her own fault."

I saw the whites of Dakan's eyes in my peripheral. He stared at me with what was most likely an expression of dramatic horror. I ignored him.

"You might begin to understand her more soon enough," he said. I opened my mouth to tell him something mean, something that would sink beneath his skin and shut him up, when the door to our quarters opened and interrupted me. We both turned to look.

A young woman entered with haste. She was crying. I caught a flash of warm, tan skin beneath shredded fabric, disheveled black braids before she disappeared into the bunks in the back of the room.

Dakan and I exchanged glances, and then my eyes narrowed as I anticipated what he was going to say.

"Don't say anything," I said to him with a warning in my tone. His lips screwed up into a pursed half-frown. He finished his cloth patch and took another, his quick, jerky movements a clear sign of his anxiousness.

I followed suit, trying to tune out the sounds of running water in the next room and Armata's muffled, breathy weeping. Despite the contempt I felt for her, I found concentration difficult. I might not have told Dakan my thoughts on her had I known she would be returning so soon.

Whether or not Dakan realized it, I didn't fully believe that she was at fault for the things that happened to her, or even for the choices she made of her own volition. She was beautiful, strikingly so, and people noticed. First Order personnel were not immune to such things. If making subtle passes at officers, or positioning herself in places that she would be noticed and perhaps approached for companionship meant that she could enjoy more privileges, I didn't blame her. It was an unfortunate reality of the classless that any means could be necessary to survive, or thrive. No, what I hated about was her smugness. Her ego.

She actually _believed_ that she deserved more based on the merit of her appearance. So, for every bruise she wore after stepping out of line or acting too self sure, she had five boasts about the favor she gained attending an officer's party, or the romantic propositions she received. To me, she was a conceited idiot, and probably a liar. When she wasn't whining to me or Dakan about the cruelty of our masters, she was given to delusions that she would be discovered some day for the lost core world noble she was and rescued from this life.

She was one year my senior, but I had no patience for her nonsense. Dakan, for reasons unknown to me, humored her. So when the door to the bunk opened again, I knew that my warning to him would be ignored.

Armata, still sniffing, moved over to the bench between Dakan and I and rested her downcast face on her hands. I shifted further away from her and kept working. My hands were shaking.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"What happened?" Dakan asked, finally. I tensed, the angry grip in my chest tightening.

"Cadet training," she moaned. The grip tightened further and my hand slipped so that the embroidery needle pierced the skin on my thumb. I sucked in a sharp hiss and stuck my fingertip in my mouth.

"Cadets?" Dakan asked, concern softening his confusion over the ambiguity of the term. "What class?"

"Primary," she replied, as though this admission weren't as damning to her melodrama as anything. Dakan made a quiet noise of acknowledgement, but I knew that even he was surprised. Primary class cadets ranged in age from eight years to twelve. Children. My eyes flickered up to her. I could see bruises darkening her tan skin, a few shallow scrapes on her elbows. Nothing major, and certainly nothing to warrant her current behavior.

Before I could stop myself, I snorted in derision.

Suddenly, I found myself the center of attention. I hadn't necessarily meant for them to hear it, but I supposed that now that I had their attention, I might as well fulfill their expectations.

"It appears that you are not dead," I said, stabbing the needle through the fabric, pulling the thread through until it was taut, then piercing the other side. "Nor are you incapable of walking."

"What is your point, Riala?" Armata asked, unable to stop herself from inviting my opinion.

"My _point_ ," I said, finishing the last part of the arm band. "Is that we have work to do, Armata. So if you're not going to die of your injuries, perhaps you should take yourself to the medbay instead of bothering us. As you can see, we have a lot left before tomorrow."

"Armata, don't-" Dakan started, weariness filling his every intonation. But it was too late. Armata was fuming. Her large, molten-gold-colored eyes were simmering with temper. Not for the first time, our bunkmate had found himself in the middle of our conflict.

"Perhaps tomorrow you will have other things to worry about," she said. I steeled myself against what would come next. "Your first Active Duty assignment, for example."

I threw the finished patch into the completed bin, but did not retrieve another. I felt my normally calm expression begin to slip. With perfect aim, she'd managed to get to the heart of what had been occupying my thoughts for the past few days.

"It might not be so bad," Dakan offered. The pity in his tone was worse than Armata's contempt.

"She'll find out," Armata said. I could hear the smile in her voice without looking at her. "There's talk amongst the other active slaves that the Lieutenant-General is looking for fresh talent. I hear he likes the ugly ones best."

I took a deep breath to steady my pounding heart, watching my fingers fidget with each other. Her insult didn't bother me. I didn't need to ask to which Lieutenant-General she was referring. Lieutenant-General Hux was said to be ruthless and corrupt. How else could he have risen through the ranks at so young an age? If rumors were to be believed, he was anything from a rapist to a cannibal, and while such speculation defied common sense, I couldn't help but feel an additional edge of fear to think of his attentions falling on me after my active duty was officially instated. The blood from my pricked thumb had dried and crusted, but the movements of my worrying hands reopened it.

"I thought so," she said to my silence.

"Armata, that's enough," Dakan said, his voice soft.

"All I'm saying is that active duty is not easy. Riala would be wise to accept it." Though the heat was gone from her words, and I thought I even heard the hint of remorse, the damage was done. She had won this exchange. I felt the anger twist inside of me until I felt choked. I looked up and met her eyes. She faltered.

"You should leave," I said to her, the threat evident in my tone. For a moment, she looked as though she might argue. Instead, as I knew she would, she stood from the bench and swept away, back into the back bunk room. The door shut behind her. Dakan watched her go and then turned to me.

"If you'd only try to be nice, maybe she wouldn't say things like that," he said.

The pity and judgment in his voice triggered something in me. When I met his look, I felt the prickling of pressure behind my eyes.

A searing line of fire arced from the seat of my anger through my eyes and he flinched as if he'd been physically slapped. His face became ashen, and without further word, he pushed himself away from the table and rushed to the bunk room as though the floor were collapsing behind him, leaving his half-finished First Order insignia patch on the table.

I could hear muffled conversation in the next room. I reached into the container of unfinished arm bands and tried to maintain the semblance of composure. My hands still shook. A couple minutes later, the door to the bunk opened. I didn't look up when they hurried past and into the corridor outside of our space. The door closed behind them and suddenly I was alone.

I breathed more easily. Without witnesses, I let my façade of calm fall away. The only reason Armata's words had hit me so hard was that at least some of what she'd said had been true. No matter what age a slave is when they are recruited, once they reach twenty, they are no longer merely in training.

Sixteen years of conditioning, obedience and passivity training, lessons in menial tasks, would come to an end. My past had been so heavily on my mind because, according to First Order acquisitions records, tomorrow was when I turned twenty. I would receive my first active duty assignment, and all of my speculations would meet reality.

I couldn't focus. My stomach growled, and I realized that by chasing away Dakan, I'd destroyed my chances of finishing the job in time to catch the newscast. I'd heard that Hux himself would be making a statement, and now more than ever I wanted to at least see what the man looked like.

Horror stories of slaves being passed around like favors behind closed doors at officer's parties, of being experimented upon by the research division to horrific results, of being set loose on the cold surface and used as cadet target practice flashed through my mind. I shook them away. Armata was a fool and I would succumb neither to her fear mongering nor the unfounded rumors circulated, it seemed, specifically to unsettle slaves in training.

I forced my hands to cooperate and set to work on what would likely be a long night.


	2. How Fortunate the One With None

After finishing the patches, I was left with no more than three hours in which to sleep. What little rest I managed was racked with nightmares and strange dreams, and prematurely interrupted when Armata and Dakan returned. It seemed that the beginning of my twentieth year would be colored with exhaustion. I woke in the morning with a pervasive chill clinging to my bones and the memory of smoke in my nose. It would not be the first time I'd gotten so little sleep, but any failing in performance could jeopardize the future I wanted for myself.

So I prepared myself to face the day with some extra care.

My braids were three days old now and in need of redoing. I unraveled them into separate kinky strands by working my fingers through them from the ends to the roots. I dragged a battered comb, already threaded with Armata's silky black hair, through the brown, thigh-length waves until it was nearly twice its original volume. Sixteen years of uninterrupted growth made it appear as though I were wearing a cloak when it was loose. On impulse I played with it for a moment, wrapping it about myself and imagining how I might look if I were a Coruscant noble woman garbed in the height of strange fashion. Stupid, fleeting pleasures that no one else would ever know about.

I cleaned my scalp and roots with regulation dry shampoo, combed out the excess powder, and nicked some of Armata's scented oil, raking it through the ends of the strands. She would be upset with me if she knew I'd used it, but I felt justified under the circumstances, and using her things without her permission gave me a cold sort of satisfaction after our exchange the previous day. I set to work re-braiding the unruly locks. I took care, but I didn't waste time on any of the more involved styles: I gathered my hair into four thick braids, splitting them further at the back of my head. I fixed them in place at their base with a band, and then looped them under and back through the band until I had a hanging bib which rested against the back of my neck. Finally, I pulled the two plaits I'd left separate to the front of my neck and secured them together with a locked clamp. The tiny indicator light beneath my engraved designation on the front of the clamp glowed red when the mechanism closed.

A tinny voice addressed me from the comms built into the device, startling me.

" _221784-R, report to the Overseer for active duty assignment_ ," the voice on the other end crackled. Without a two-way comm, I couldn't respond, not that they needed a response. I looked at the chronometer beside the door. The call had come earlier than I'd expected; I'd hoped that I would have an additional quarter hour to get ready, perhaps get some morning meal. Now, there was no more time to stall. Either I would show up on time, or I would be punished for being late. Luckily for me, my appetite had left me as soon as I'd heard the order.

I quickly pulled on my all-purpose clothing: loose belted tunic over leggings and long sleeves in shades of white and grey and hurried to leave my quarters. Outside my quarters, it was an ordinary day within the slave quarters. Like a multi-level, underground town, this part of the base was devoted to housing and maintaining Starkiller's slave population under constant guard supervision.

With my eyes customarily down, I made my way toward Service Command where the Overseer was expecting me. I watched pairs of slave and servant feet walk by me. I had a moment of weakness as I followed the familiar route, through subsections, past the mess, over a walkway and into a turbolift. I would have liked a kind word, or advice, but left alone, my mind raced to conjure every horror I might be forced to face for my first active duty assignment. Each step I took was more difficult to take than the last but I walked as quickly as I could without calling attention to myself.

The two white-armored feet outside the door shifted to alertness when I approached. I passed them by and their interrupted conversation resumed.

Service Command was not as grand as the name made it sound. It was nothing more than a small, dingy room lined with terminal banks. There, low-level techs were busy managing everything from maintenance schedules to slave assignments while the Overseer stood in the middle of the room speaking to someone else. I didn't need to look up to see him, I could hear his fat, wheezy breathing the moment I walked in. Familiar disgust and anger prickled in my chest as I folded my hands in front of me and waited, perfectly still, to be called.

Life in slavery hadn't been entirely bad. Some aspects of it were even tolerable. But I had learned early on that absolute obedience was expected of me, even as my betters were not held to the same standard. The Overseer was no exception; he was fat, undisciplined, and given to fits of temper. I knew well enough by now that it was not wise to incite his anger.

I heard someone mention my designation and he grunted. I understood the meaning in the wordless command and approached him with my eyes on his boots. They were filthy. My face remained placid, unreadable and gave no hint of the feelings beneath. I knew that the Overseer was looking at me closely. He held a digital datapad low in his hand, open to my file.

"Trouble," he uttered. A fat, white hand reached out and touched my jaw. I fought to keep the ire from flaring up as he gripped it and forced my head up. My eyes remained lowered. "That's what you are, 221784-R. You're not my problem today, though."

He released my face and raised the datapad, and I silently resisted the urge to wipe my face on my sleeve where he'd touched me. He scoffed.

"They must be desperate," he said. My nerves were on edge as I waited for him to reveal my fate. I focused on the dirt on his boots, tried to keep my discontent quiet. Finally, he continued. "I don't know how you've managed it, slave, but you're needed for serving duties at the promotion reception. Report to the Quartermaster to receive your uniform and wait for briefing from the Foreman."

That was it. There was no ceremony, no rank patch or badge, no acknowledgement of my change in status. But the very fact that I was allowed such a task meant that I was no longer in probationary service training; I was now fully-instated. I nodded a quick confirmation, but the Overseer had already turned to speak to someone else.

As I left Command, I considered my situation. Though I hadn't thought myself a child for many years, the First Order had a methodical and practiced way of doing things. The moment a slave turned twenty, individual skills were measured against the needs of the Order, and duties were assigned accordingly. Somehow, I had managed to land an enviable position on my first day. Possibilities seemed to be opening up right before me, things I hadn't considered. A visible position could be good for me, if I played it right.

Part of me balked at the idea of being under public scrutiny. I would likely be ignored like any other servant, and the shift would end without incident if I were lucky. But I had seen Armata. I'd heard all of her stories, or things she'd heard from others. Where there was power, there was the potential for those that have it to abuse it. My only option was to perform my duties perfectly and to the utmost of my ability to appear mannered and capable. Armata's words occurred to me again, but they didn't have as much impact now.

I entered the Quartermaster's distribution center and found myself immediately at the back of a line. Slaves and servants, none much older than I, were queued to receive uniforms. Up front, one droid took laser measurements while another retrieved the appropriate uniform. Stormtroopers stood at all entrances and watched; all humans in the room were markedly silent. Machinery whirred and unintelligible droid speak nearly drowned out the occasional comm pip from one of the guards as they spoke with their counterpart on a silent channel. One after the other, the line's occupants accepted their uniform and entered a room on the left, until it was my turn. I was measured, and a folded pile was thrust into my arms.

I followed the others before me into a briefing room and then into gender-separated dressing rooms toward the back. Here, all put on their assigned uniforms and disposed of their other clothes into vacuum tube laundry chutes. Others adjusted their hair and ID clamps in front of a reflective sheet of metal. More guards watched silently, and though I knew that modesty was pointless when your body belonged to the governing body, I picked a partitioned spot in the corner further away from the white-suited soldiers.

It wasn't until I undressed and disposed of my old clothes that I realized that proper uniforms such as the one I was meant to wear were not as simple as what I was used to. There were more parts to it, and instead of a belt or other adjustable closure, the uniform was more tailored. Fasteners were hidden under flaps and out of sight, and before long I felt lost. Anxious, I found myself trying to look to my neighbors for clues as to how to wear it. A flash of white drew my eye and I turned to see that two of the guards had left their post by the door and now appeared to be patrolling the room. I could hear their comms chirp, but heard nothing of their conversation. Something told me, however, that it was not entirely professional. From their gestures, they appeared to be appraising the women as they passed them.

Dark, hollow eyeholes looked up at me from the center of the room and I turned away, my pulse racing. It was too late, of course. I'd been seen looking right at them. And now I could hear their approach. I scrambled with the fabric and managed to pull the leggings and chest brace on before I heard the vocoder-filtered voice behind me. I paused with the unfastened overtunic in my hands.

"This one was watching the others," a male voice said, a voice that spoke of boredom and potential malice.

"Maybe she likes what she sees," the other one said, his voice speaking of bitter humor and suggestion. "Or maybe she's confused."

"Need some help with that?" the first one said, his tone lewd. He was talking to me. Without thinking, I turned to face him. I dropped my eyes a second too late.

"No, sir," I said. And then, before I could stop myself, I added, "it's my first day."

I was mortified when they both laughed at this, but tried to continue dressing as though this were normal. The taller one stepped closer.

"Mine too," he said. "Maybe you 'll be serving me later." More laughter. I felt his proximity and his attention and my lip twitched involuntarily. Inside of my stomach, the ever-present potential for anger seemed to simmer. I turned my back to them and began to pull the tunic over my head.

A weathered old woman with a pinched, wrinkled face wearing the uniform of a higher-ranking servant walked into the room. Her long, gray hair was in a single braid over one shoulder, the comm clamp affixed to its end.

"Cadets, you do not belong in here," she said, looking straight at the Stormtroopers that had been harassing me.

"Just making the rounds," the taller one of them said. "C'mon Nines. Before the Captain notices we're gone."

The other nodded and looked at me before leaving. The foreman watched them go, while the remaining slaves finished dressing. I pulled on my shoes and resumed working the clasps. I thought that perhaps the droid measuring me had made a mistake; the uniform was tight enough, and the fabric stiff enough that I wasn't sure I would be able to sit down comfortably. But then, that was probably the point.

The foreman walked by, inspecting the servants and adjusting their clothes as necessary. When she reached me, she looked me in the eye and then proceeded to help me finish dressing. I was grateful for the assistance.

"Best if you don't speak to them," she said quietly to me, catching me off guard with her candid words. Satisfied that all were dressed, she led the way out of the room and into the central area, and all of the servants filed out behind her. Once we had rejoined the male servants, our uniforms nearly identical, all faced the old woman as she slowly paced in front of us.

"You are all fortunate enough to be assigned to serving duties. For the duration of this assignment, you are expected to act with utmost propriety. I have one hour to turn you from low-born workers into servants fit for an upper class occasion." She glanced around, her eyes locking with mine for a moment before she moved on. "I have my work cut out for me."

I was not the only one who was new to this. There were perhaps a couple of faces that could have been freshly assigned to active duty status as I was. As she detailed the expectations of our position, I could sense a steadily growing excitement in the room around me. The ceremony was scheduled for many hours from now, but it seemed that there was much to do beforehand, like cleaning and preparing the reception hall, assisting the kitchen staff, and ensuring that the assembly hall was prepared. It seemed that this was a large ceremony, unusually so. At the end, she gathered the servants into groups and assigned tasks. My group, perhaps comprised of eight others, was assigned to detail prepping, and then waiting. Waiting, as in standing by the doors in the reception hall and waiting until we were needed. Tedious, but hardly cause for complaint.

"Be helpful, be prompt, keep your eyes down. Likely they will only want food and drink. If an officer wants something from you, you do not hesitate. Don't let your new uniforms fool you, you are First Order property and any defiance will result in immediate punishment or death."

My eyes flickered around the room, to the other faces standing at attention. None seemed surprised to hear any of this. The speech was now over, and the Foreman walked toward the exit, an astromech droid close behind her. Its arm was extended and a small black device was attached. One by one, the slaves and servants filed out, stopping so that the droid could scan their comm clamp and update their permissions. Nerves and anxiety writhed within my chest as I stepped up. The foreman nodded to me and scanned my ID clamp personally with a device in her hand. There was a small tone and a tinny electronic voice said 'Activated,' and then she ushered me out the door. I didn't know if I expected to feel any different, but I didn't. I let out my pent up nerves with a slow sigh before following the line of servants in front of me.

For three hours, I and the others in my group combed over every detail of the reception and assembly halls. I straightened the chairs on the elevated platform at the front, picked lint from the red carpet down the center aisle, and buffed out fingerprints from the durasteel walls. It was frustrating work, especially when the food started coming out. In the reception space, long tables were laden with aromatic finger foods, fruits, and dishes I had never seen before. My sullen stomach growled, but there was nothing that could be done with it. As always, guards were posted at the doors, and the Foreman herself watched all of us as we worked.

If nothing else, the work kept me occupied. It seemed that no time at all had passed before the Foreman was directing us to stand and wait, spaced along the walls of the long reception space, and then rushing off herself to ensure that all else was ready. I could hear the sound of hundreds, perhaps thousands of personnel entering the assembly hall through the doors behind me. A few more Stormtroopers milled into this side of the reception hall, but I ignored them. I was far more interested in the names that I could now hear being called. Suddenly I knew why the ceremony today was so important: it was officers that were being promoted within the ranks, not soldiers. I thought of Armata again, and a small twist of spite reminded me that I had already done better than she thought I would.

Serving officers could mean that I could be noticed, however unlikely. If I managed to grab the interest of someone with enough influence, I could benefit from such favor in many ways. I wasn't so interested in sex, what clumsy damp fumblings I'd experienced in the past had been unremarkable and tiresome, but I had no qualms about using my body to get what I wanted, if it even came to that. Armata certainly did.

Though I had my Gaze, a weapon I'd never dared use against my betters, Armata had always had the advantage of natural beauty. We first met as children, and for some reason, our bunk assignments had kept us together as we grew. I'd long suspected that we were somehow related, as she'd shared the shuttle with me when my settlement was sacked. But where she had bloomed into a delicate, beautiful young woman, I'd become a too-tall shadow of her on her worst day. I'd always envied her for her eyes, pure golden brown like burnished gold coins. Mine, in contrast, were both dun-brown and muddy grey, things whose only value lay in the weapon I could sometimes make them. Her silken black hair seemed to always shine, even without oils. My drab brown locks were given to frizziness if I didn't keep them well in check. Her skin, a soft warm tan, made mine look dull and unhealthy; I'd always had circles under my eyes, and I would always have a smattering of dark spots on my shoulders and face despite having never left the interior of the base.

I had no illusions, I wasn't pretty. I didn't care, though. I was clever, and I was determined to do whatever I could to cater to whatever was asked of me.

I could hear through the doors beside me the echoing roll call, a seemingly endless list of officers ranking from Lieutenants to the lowliest techs. I didn't know how many lived within the sectors and districts around the habitable zone of the Starkiller Base, but I knew that the personnel being promoted today only comprised a small fraction of the full force. Tonight, if I was careful, and lucky more importantly, I could potentially escape a life of cleaning garbage droids and other unpleasant tasks. As I waited, my imagination began to escape the confines of what was plausible. If I managed to succeed in my ambitions, I might even find myself a 'favorite,' in the parlance of slave talk, of someone important. Perhaps even a General. I closed my eyes, a subtle self-admonishment for my inventive mind. I reminded myself that I would be lucky if nothing happened at all.

Stormtrooper guards were patrolling the banquet hall casually alone or in pairs, and the general feel of the atmosphere was fairly relaxed, even boring. The Foreman had returned and was making one last circuit, giving orders to kitchen staff and communicating with the higher ranking servants who were, from what I could tell, already assigned to specific officers. I didn't know how she, or any of them, could resist taking a taste from the abundance of foods. My stomach growled again, and I hoped no one else had heard it. The smells were incredible, unlike anything I'd ever had the fortune to taste, that was certain. Without a doubt, the Order had imported some livestock for this occasion. Meats glistened on trays, fresh produce in mouth-wateringly bright colors, cakes and sweets sat like avian eggs in nests of elegant garnish. I briefly considered kitchen duty as a potential alternative if my plans for this evening didn't come to fruition.

My thoughts were interrupted when a passing guard paused in their circuit of the room and took a step toward me. I realized that the Foreman had not mentioned how we were to act toward soldiers. _Please keep moving, please leave me alone_ , I thought frantically, the words a mantra in my head. My eyes were cast downward, but I could see their feet. I had no way of telling the soldiers apart, but something about the way he moved was familiar. Instinctually, I knew they were breaking protocol, and that told me that this was the same cadet that had harassed me before. My eyes betrayed my nervousness. I glanced up and past him to where the Foreman was standing. She seemed to have noticed the cadet as well. Her expression was tight as her eyes looked between me and him. No one else seemed to notice or care. I held my body perfectly still, but my heart had begun to race. Nerves made me feel jittery.

"Remember me?" he asked, confirming my suspicions with the sound of his voice. He kept it low. I remembered the Foreman's words, not to speak to them, so I said nothing.

"You want to have some fun?" he asked. I couldn't stop the frantic glance up to his helmet. Something told me that his definition of fun would not match my own.

I looked past him at the Foreman. Her back was turned. Despite being in a room full of other people, I felt alone. What was I supposed to do?

"I'm supposed to wait here," I said finally, casting my eyes down. A hand clad in a white armored glove came into view and touched my arm.

"You're supposed to do whatever you're told," he said, the threat plain. "I'm ordering you to come with me now. Don't worry, you'll enjoy it."

Panic. "You're just a cadet," I blurted. The hand on my arm squeezed until it felt bruising.

"And you'll be nothing but a stain for your friends to clean up if you don't do what I say."

I panicked, indecision turning my limbs to lead. If I disobeyed him, he would kill me. If I obeyed him, I would be abandoning my assigned post and any chance I had of moving up in the world.

Though I doubted he would be allowed to kill me right here, I wasn't sure enough of that to test it. Desperately, I looked back to the foreman, but she was gone. The guards posted in the room seemed not to notice the quiet exchange, and the slaves nearest me were deliberately averting their gaze. The message was clear: I was on my own to face whatever 'fun' this cadet, called Nines, had in mind for me.

He didn't wait for my answer, his hand tightened on my arm, and then he was pulling me away from my post at the wall. He led me to the far side of the room, to a small servant's access door, away from my fellow servants, away from witnesses. All around me kept their eyes on the floor. Nothing to see here, nothing to be done. He pulled me through the doorway. Though I'd offered no resistance, his grip would doubtless leave marks on the skin beneath the uniform. We were in a narrow, poorly lit corridor, now, a lesser used slave access hall that connected to the kitchens. When the autodoor closed behind us, we were conspicuously alone.

"You ever fuck a soldier?" he asked. I blanched, still averting my eyes from the blank, soulless helmet face that looked at me. I heard a chuckle. The hand on my arm moved to the wall, caging me in as he stepped aggressively close.

"They'll be expecting me when the ceremony's finished," I said, my stomach a tempest of anger and fear. I stared hard at the door we'd just come through, as if I might be able to see through it. His other hand rested on my breast and I tried to flatten myself against the wall, attempting to shrink my height to something smaller, something more able to escape.

"You know why the Order neuters slaves?" he asked. My eyes moved to the black eye spaces in the white face. My jaw was clenched. "It's so you don't breed like snow rats down here."

The hand on my breast squeezed and I flinched. The ire coiling in my stomach began to overtake my fear, but the blaster pistol holstered at his side quieted the feelings until I felt nothing but nausea. The helmet leaned in close.

"It also means I can fuck you without worrying about my low-born bastard running around." His hands were on me then. He was grabbing and gripping every soft part of me through the fabric of my uniform as if he were trying to squeeze me out of my skin. My throat tightened as I weathered the assault, and I found it harder to keep silent and still. I began to squirm and even half-heartedly bat his hands away. I was too scared to do anything more.

"I bet you were hoping for an officer, weren't you?" he asked, the sound of his breath distorted by the vocoder into something more closely resembling a rasping growl. Mentally, the answer was yes, I was hoping for an officer. But this conversation was clearly meant to be one-sided, and as he pawed at my breasts and groped for my ass through the restrictive uniform, I began to wonder if this was my fate.

A flash of anger inside of me woke me from my fearful, pitying thoughts. He was fumbling for the fasteners on my uniform and seemed to be having as much difficulty with them as I had when I decided to at least try and prevent what was going to happen otherwise.

"Aren't you going to take off your armor?" I asked. He paused in his clumsy attempts.

An armored hand snaked down through the wide belt of my uniform and jerked me into him. The hard plates of his suit pinched me through my uniform as he pressed against me and I winced against the discomfort. I felt the angry heat begin to grow in my stomach.

"Maybe I like to wear it," he said, his voice husky.

"At least take off your helmet," I said, forcing a smile. I'd never done it before, but I decided that now would be a good time to test the limits of my Gaze, and I wasn't sure that I could do it through a helmet. My pulse jumped in my throat when he stepped back and let go of me. I breathed for the first time since he'd approached me.

He unfastened something at the back of the helmet and then lifted it off. For a moment I was taken aback by the youth in his features. A young white man, perhaps in his early twenties, with a shock of garish red hair looked at me from beneath a heavy, brutish brow. His mouth was slack with heavy breathing as he looked me over. I was so disgusted for a moment that I forgot my plan, but then he leaned into me and, pinning me to the wall with his body, started slavering my face with his mouth. I felt his hands busy between us at his codpiece. He was trying to get through my uniform.

I searched deep inside of myself for the wellspring of anger. It was roiling.

"You're going to like this," he groaned, gripping my jaw, plated gloves digging into my skin, now forcing me to look at him while he scrambled with his codpiece, spurred by what he thought was a willingness to participate.

His clumsy handling was all I needed. The anger was there in force, now, and it winded its way up from my belly to my chest. There was an odd tickling sensation at the back of my eyeballs as I prepared to look at him with the power I had, but sudden uncertainty stopped me. What if he only became enraged and killed me? I'd never tried it on anyone apart from other slaves. This was a trained soldier, a cadet really, but it didn't matter. He had the weapon.

I suddenly didn't know what I wanted to do. I wasn't confident that it would work. _It might be safer to let him do what he wants_ , I thought, if it meant living to see another day. But my anger and disgust flared at the thought of letting him touch me.

My only certainty was that I didn't want him to continue to try and force his clumsy attentions on me here, just outside of the banquet hall, where hundreds of soldiers and at least a dozen officers were about to pour in. I wasn't about to let myself be taken by a mere soldier on my first active duty assignment. Not when I was so close to salvation. There was a snap of armor plating fasteners opening.

I caught his eyes with mine, put all my will into hurting him, or intimidating him.

It wasn't working. Desperate, I tried harder. A low static sound seemed to rise in my ears, and the thrum of my pulse was as percussive as a military band. But, even as my eyes locked with his, I could tell that my weapon was useless against him.

If anything, it only seemed to make his frenzy worse. I realized with horror that his cock was out. He crushed his pelvis into me, jabbing me with its hard length as he struggled to find a way into my uniform with one hand. I writhed to avoid him, to slip out of his grasp. His brutish face was flushed and he groaned as he began to stroke himself. Gloved fingers found the waist band of my leggings beneath the tailored tunic.

It was pointless, I realized with despair. Giving up on using my Gaze, I looked longingly back toward the door to the banquet hall just on the other side; I could hear it now, the ceremony was over, and conversation and footsteps were so close, yet they may as well have been miles away for how little good it did me.

I had the briefest urge to cry out, but fear and uncertainty spurred by my failure to manipulate him silenced me. His white gun glinted in the poor lighting and I clenched my eyes as I was overcome with a wild recklessness. I started slapping his hands away from me, pushing back against him, but there was no stopping him; whatever I had done, whatever power I'd poured into him just then had backfired. He was going to rape me.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a door sliding open and the noise from the banquet hall poured into the access corridor, so much sharper and louder. The comparative brightness of the next room drenched us both in a wash of light save for a long shadow in the shape of a stormtrooper.

The cadet looked up, and I used the momentary distraction to slide back away from him. My hands shaking, I attempted to put my clothing back in order. My immediate thoughts were to flee to the kitchens before his friend could join in and make double sport of me. But when I looked, the trooper I saw standing in the doorway was not an ordinary soldier like him.

They stood there, impossibly tall and gleaming in a suit of chrome armor, polished to a shine. A red half-cloak was draped over one shoulder, heavily decorated with badges. Though there was no rank insignia visible, I could tell that this one was something unique. Recently promoted, as I would guess. My heart pounding, I threw myself to my knees, but I made sure to keep my eyes on the silver-suited soldier, hoping that whatever was left of my Gaze might help me now. The soldier, upon seeing the higher-ranking officer, scrambled to put his cock away, but the damage was done.

"FN-2199," the voice, a deep but unmistakably feminine voice, said. It surprised me enough to break my thread of concentration. "I demand to know what you are doing with your weapon unholstered in the middle of an official function."

"Captain Phasma, I-"

"That was rhetorical, _cadet_. I don't want your excuses. Report to sewage immediately. Consider yourself lucky that I don't permanently disarm you." The cadet quickly covered himself and grabbed his helmet before slinking away toward the kitchens. I had to bite into my inner cheek until I tasted blood in order to contain the laugh that threatened to leave me at the thought of him being 'permanently disarmed.'

Alone with the captain, I lowered my gaze once more, my abdomen clenching with the anticipation of my punishment. I knew she was looking at me.

"On your feet, then."

I immediately obeyed her orders, standing at prompt attention, head bowed. I tried to keep myself steady though I could feel the tremble of flooded adrenaline coursing through my body. Her boots gleamed in the light from the banquet hall behind her, and laughter and music filtered around her, and the effect was almost ethereal. She took a step closer to me and I dared let my gaze stray upward, stopping at the breastplate. If it weren't for her voice, there was no physical indication of her gender, but at that moment, she was the most beautiful sight I'd ever beheld.

"Did he force himself on you?" She asked, her voice still hard enough that it did not invite thought or hesitation, though the very question gave me a bit of a shock.

"He tried," I answered honestly and tentatively, my voice meek, my eyes roaming over the gleaming surfaces of her chest plate to the soft, wine red drape, to the glinting dress medals that indicated her status and accomplishments in the Order. "But he didn't succeed."

I caught my eyes creeping up to her helmet face. I felt a residual prickling feeling behind them and something in her posture relaxed, if only slightly.

"Do you need to be relieved of your duties for the night?" she asked, her voice softer. "I will speak to your supervisor if necessary."

I was too stunned to speak. She was offering to give me the night off? Dumbly, I shook my head. I had no intention of missing the chance to attend the reception.

"No," I said. A strange feeling was rising in my chest and I found it difficult to look away from her, even as I realized that looking her in the face could count as minor insubordination. "I'm alright."

"Very well," was all she said then. I could tell that she was still angry about the soldier, and I wondered at the strange display of compassion for a slave. She then turned and walked back toward the doorway to the banquet hall, where she paused. "Unless you are otherwise needed, you can attend to me now."

Stunned, I followed after her as she entered the main space, my cheeks still colored from my unbelievable fortune of escaping what had almost happened in the access corridor. I didn't miss the questioning looks from the other slaves attending to the comfort of the soldiers when I walked by on the heels of the dazzling Captain Phasma.

Yes, she was a woman, but when it came to sex, I had no preference. At least, I'd had no preference until now. At the present, my preference was to do whatever it took to remain at her side, to hear her voice again and to feel her attention on me.

Throughout the night, I was ever at Phasma's side, trying my best to anticipate what she wanted before she asked for it, though she didn't ask for much. She didn't remove her helmet to eat or drink, and I found myself scurrying to do whatever I could think of for her, including straightening the pins on her half-cloak and snatching a stray napkin from the floor before she stepped on it.

My stomach growled at an inopportune moment, and to my disbelief, she ordered me to eat something, acting as though it were no big deal. I complied, feeling confident that no one would question me in this woman's presence, if they even noticed. It was the best food that I'd ever eaten, far better than nutritional gruel, and I managed to get my fill. I saw the jealous glances from another servant, but I could now see them maneuvering to eat or sneak drinks when none saw. As time passed, it seemed that the free-flowing alcohol was having an affect on all present, and the usually rigid ceremony required of First Order personnel began to slip. I even began to relax, though I'd had nothing to drink.

Captain Phasma maintained her decorum. Her disposition was not at all harsh or unpleasant. I thought back to the corridor, how I'd looked at her with some residual effect of my Gaze, and I wondered if that had anything to do with her kindness toward me. Something told me that that was not the case. Captain Phasma was, from what I could tell, an entirely different First Order officer.

She barely acknowledged me, as was befitting someone of her highly-decorated rank, but she seemed devoid of the same brutish urges toward her lessers that I witnessed even now. Twice she reprimanded lower-ranking officers for unseemly public displays with giggling servants, or unnecessary roughness, and I only grew more and more curious about the woman in the uniform that I was fortunate enough to shadow. What did she look like under there? What kind of thing would be expected of me should she request my company to her personal quarters? As the night drew on, I agonized over what to do in such a situation. I'd never tried to pleasure a woman before, but I knew well enough how to manage myself. Generally, it seemed like more trouble than it was worth, but as I followed her, I realized that I was more than willing to go through the trouble for her.

Finally, after forcefully separating two guards that had become inebriated, abandoning all reason, their appointed posts, and their helmets in their attempt to settle a dispute by wrestling, I heard Phasma remark to a couple of officers that she grew weary of "nursemaid duty," and was keen to retire for the evening.

The officers, a hawk-nosed male and an older female, waved to stop her. The woman had a cup of something strong smelling in her hand, and the other seemed a bit unsteady on his feet.

"The night is young, old girl," the woman said. The male gave a light-hearted jab toward the Captain, whose body language read as distinctly amused.

"Quite right. I do say, Phasma, fancy a bit of sport in the range?" the man said, his accent nasal and aristocratic. He turned to his companion. "Have you seen this woman handle a precision blaster rifle? It's art."

The smiling female officer took a swig of her drink. "C'mon, show us, Phas."

Phasma glanced at me, but I deliberately kept my eyes down, worry making the snacks I'd consumed sit uncomfortably. I didn't want her to leave me. "Perhaps another time. This day has been far too long already."

The two officers shrugged and walked toward the exit, leaving Phasma and me alone.

This was it. Either she would leave without me, and I would never again see such kindness, or she would see my value to her otherwise. I followed her as she made the circuit, graciously giving her regards to officers and saluting her betters when I dared to bring my eyes back to her helmeted face. My chest stopped pumping blood for a long moment when I realized that she was looking right at me at that same moment, the unreadable black markings indicating where her eyes were behind the helmet fixed on me. For an agonizing moment, I was sure that she would leave me to the banalities of my post.

"I am leaving. You are welcome to accompany me, if you wish."

Again, she had left it up to my discretion, something unheard of to a slave. I had a choice, but really there was only one clear choice for me. I didn't hesitate. I bowed my assent and nothing more was said as we left the boisterous chaos of the banquet hall together.


	3. The Power in Surrender

I followed Captain Phasma out of the reception hall and toward the Tech sector. When my daily life for many years was limited to the Service sector and whatever utility areas I was assigned to work, it was easy to forget just how large Starkiller Base was. With my eyes down, as was customary, I made sure to keep her gleaming bootheels in sight, but that didn't stop me from observing the other pairs of feet passing us by. I saw the perfectly-pressed uniform trousers and jodhpurs in boots denoting officers, the varied colors of armored boots belonging to different soldiers such as TIE pilots and snow troopers, and a few synthsilk shoes belonging to nonmilitary personnel. Occasionally I even saw other slaves and servants moving about in this part of the base.

I tried to keep track of where we were, but after a few turns and a turbolift trip to higher levels, I found myself lost and in unfamiliar areas. We'd passed through the Tech sector and into what I assumed was a section of base relegated to housing officers and higher-ranking officials.

Repeatedly, my mind returned to the officer I followed. I knew so little of her, yet I found myself drawn to her like a rakfly to a source of light. And truly, she was a gleaming beacon in the muted interior lighting of many of the base's corridors. She had shown unusual compassion for the classless servants at the reception, and after interrupting my attempted assault, she seemed to be displaying a strange sort of protectiveness or obligation toward me.

I had no illusions, I knew that the only way one could climb the ranks in the First Order was to not only be obedient to the will of Command, but to also display something exceptional, some brand of unusual cruelty toward the First Order's enemies, or an abundance of military victories, or the capacity for cunning political machinations. As comparatively kind as Phasma had been toward me and the other slaves during the banquet, her buffed and glossed suit of silver stormtrooper plate armor belied the blood that had undoubtedly dirtied it at some point in her career.

I didn't care about that. What I did care about was her confident stride, her exceptional height, which was even taller than my own, and the imposing figure she'd made standing in the doorway to the corridor where I'd nearly been raped. I thought of her voice, her anger on my behalf, her threat to castrate the cadet. My savior. I thought of her concern for my wellbeing, and the fact that she'd given me a choice to attend to her, and to accompany her to her quarters.

I then thought of being in her quarters with her. An unfamiliar trembling started in the base of my spine and between my legs. For the first time in many years, my bitter resentment toward my lot was all but forgotten in the insistent longing I felt for the woman in front of me.

What the cadet had said regarding the neutering of slaves was correct. At twelve, as part of routine examinations, all classless were given doses of regulation meds which permanently made us infertile without interrupting normal growth and development. Recovery was quick from the non-invasive procedure, and afterwards, I enjoyed an existence free of the monthly bleeding which had afflicted me since I was eleven. The thought of not being able to have children did not bother me. At the moment, what bothered me more was my lack of sexual experience with other females. I'd lain with a couple of male slaves to satiate a mutual urge not curbed by the chemical neuter, but the experience had been unsatisfying and messy, and I didn't understand the point.

But maybe I was starting to.

She spoke not a word to me the entire way, though once or twice I saw her look back to see that I was still with her. I heard her acknowledge the presence of other officers and greet her equals, and periodically, I heard the telltale com pip from her silver helmet that indicated she was on a private com channel with someone, busy it seemed, even this late.

My anticipation began to transform into nervousness as the door opened onto a black, gleaming hallway. Unlike the other parts of the base, this area was very quiet, and I realized with a brief dizzying wave of shock that we were now in the officer's residence block, a place I would never have thought to see myself. One or two other officers, undoubtedly high-ranking ones in their perfect shining black boots, passed by, their heavy footsteps muted by the illuminated panels in the walls.

Captain Phasma stopped before a door. After a moment, there was a chime from the security scanner as her identity was confirmed, and with a rush of fresh air, the door opened. I looked up without meaning to after she stepped inside.

The captain's quarters were spacious and comfortable, though I knew that higher ranking officers likely had even larger quarters.

The first thing I noticed was how comparatively light the colors were; soft beiges and neutral tones, lighter shades of cream and eggshell, a stark contrast to the dark hallway outside.

The second thing I noticed was the Spartan, yet comfortable, choice in furniture. From what I could see of the main room, including a kitchen area ahead and workstation to the right, Phasma valued comfort. Through the back of the main room was a door leading into a bedroom. I could see that the bed was large and looked soft and inviting.

The third, and most startling, thing I noticed about the captain's quarters after I stepped through the door entirely, was that we were not alone.

Seated comfortably upon the oversized couches to the left of the door were at least a half dozen slaves and servants. The group was comprised of more women than men and I could see them all rising to their feet to face her, though their behavior was calm and unconcerned.

"Captain," a pair of female servants greeted her. I saw the chrome-plated helmet nod a greeting.

"Jana, Keely," she greeted back. I was unable to do anything but stare at the easy manner with which they spoke to each other. "I trust your evening was more pleasant than mine."

"Yes, Captain," one of them said, though I was not sure whether it had been Jana or Keely. Without a word, they approached her, smiling, and began to help her with her cloak.

Another woman, older and with skin so dark it was nearly blue, languidly rose from a chair and came to her. Her uniform was unlike any servant attire I'd seen, with a similar cut to mine, but made of much finer materials. She spared a glance to me before standing near Phasma.

"Greta," Phasma said to her. "Have there been any developments?"

"No, Phasma," she said. "Though I hear that there was a new worker in sewage. The waste techs were appreciative of the help."

Phasma nodded and, with her back to me, began to remove her helmet. The woman named Greta looked back to me while the two servant girls carried the cloak to a featureless bust in an alcove in the back room.

I saw a flash of white blonde hair when the helmet was removed before I realized with horror that I had been openly staring at the Captain. Even if she had not noticed, Greta had.

"Is this the one you caught the cadet with?" Greta asked, her voice neutral. I began to fidget with my hands, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. I heard a deep sigh. The gleaming boots I saw before me shifted slightly, as though she'd turned to look at me over her shoulder. I felt the flush rise up my neck and into my face.

"Yes, poor girl," Phasma said then. Her voice, unfiltered, was a deep baritone, each word firm and deliberate. Though her tone was almost gentle, I could tell that she was not someone to be argued with. "What's your name?"

I realized belatedly that she was speaking to me. My mouth worked uselessly for a moment as I tried to remember my designation. I could hear the room's other occupants moving about, and the sounds of what must have been armor plating being unfastened and removed.

"221784-R," I responded haltingly once the numbers came back to me. I could feel my pulse in my throat, but the shock of everything I'd seen tonight was slowly being edged out by the excitement of being somewhere I was not supposed to be. The air smelled clean and faintly fragrant, though I couldn't place the scent. There were soft clinks and clicks as the sections of chrome armor were removed by her attendants piece by piece. I dared not look up from the floor.

"Not your designation. Your name. What do you call yourself when you are among others like you?" My name. I had never used my name outside of company that was strictly classless, but it seemed that such formalities were not necessary here.

"I am called Riala... Ma'am." The 'ma'am' was a bare utterance, and heat prickled my face when I heard a giggle from one of the servants removing Phasma's armor. I realize that I had never before spoken so much to one so greatly my better, and did not know the proper way to address a female officer. I heard Phasma face away from me once more before she spoke again, her voice the same hard edge it was before, but this time I thought I might be hearing the barest hint of annoyance.

"Ma'am is for nonmilitary and civilians, Riala. I am neither." Fear licked the edges of my heart. I had misstepped already and offended her by implying she was anything lesser than her rank. I suddenly felt very small, and very out of place. I prepared myself for the possibility of being struck, or worse, sent away. The silver boots shifted again and I knew that she was facing me.

"In front of other First Order ranking officers and soldiers, you will address me as Captain."

"Yes, Captain," I answered without hesitation.

"In my quarters, and only in my quarters, you may call me Phasma. Or Sir, as you prefer."

As I prefer. Again, with the consideration for my preference, and again with the uncharacteristic compassion coming from a First Order officer. The heat lingered in my cheeks still, and I felt that strange and provocative tremor between my legs. Every fiber of my being longed to look up and see what she looked like, but my eyes never left the shining metal of her boots. I was sure that she, and every other person in the room, now completely silent, could hear the pounding of my pulse.

"Yes, Sir," I said, unable to keep the minor tremor from my voice. I knew that I could never call her by her name, not unless she explicitly ordered me to, which she hadn't. It went against everything I'd been ingrained with for the last sixteen years.

"Shall I take her clamp?" the soft voice of Greta asked.

"Not yet," Phasma responded. I could read, from the subtle tones in her voice, that she was thinking. She took a step toward me. In her armor, I could tell that she was heavy, but from the glimpses I'd gotten of her frame, she was tall and densely built, like a solid stone column, even without her uniform. I swallowed, and then swallowed again when the dry lump didn't go away the first time, intensely aware of the now shorter distance between us, no longer aware of any of the other servants in the room, just the gleaming titan of a woman standing before me.

"Look at me, Riala."

Every iota of self control went into keeping my rapid, shallow breaths quiet, to keep from drawing attention to my currently high-strung state as I slowly raised my face, my eyes trailing behind the movement of my head, drinking everything in slowly. She still had the armor plating on her legs and feet, but everything above her waist was a skin of thick, black, glove-like material

When my eyes finally touched upon her face, a hot wave washed over me and they involuntarily moved back down to the safe, familiar territory of her collar. I was taller than average, but she nearly dwarfed me. I could see the hint of defined musculature beneath the clinging fabric as well as the swell of breasts, smaller than mine, but pert as physically fit women's tended to be. I tried to still my beating heart before I dared look upon her face a second time, remembering that she had ordered me to do so.

Her pink lips hitched into a smirk and I forgot to breathe. The humor did not reach her large, velvety grey eyes. No they, rimmed in thick, pale lashes, were utterly serious. In my peripheral vision I saw the two servant girls standing behind her, watching the interaction, perfectly still, shameless in their curiosity.

I couldn't pay any attention to them, for before me was the most stunningly handsome woman I'd ever laid eyes upon. Handsome was the appropriate word, for as her pale features were unmistakably feminine, her stature and bearing were unlike that of any other woman I'd encountered before, even within the ranks of the military. She carried herself with such surety, such confidence, and when I looked at her face, somehow her features were perfectly matched to my prior impression of her. Her strong jaw and serious brow were offset by the softness of her cheeks and the mischievous nose.

Captain Phasma was, in a word, gorgeous. My attraction to her was instantaneous. I felt hot, and short of breath. It was a struggle to keep my face neutral.

And right now, she was observing me as I looked at her. Even that sardonic expression, on her, was more brilliant than a sun, more brilliant than her shining armor.

"There are those eyes," she said, her voice low. She must have sensed the question on my face. "I noticed them before, when I first saw you."

Greta was now looking at me directly and my eyes dropped, an involuntary reflex. I forced them up again, remembering Phasma's order.

"There is definitely something more to them. I can't quite tell what, though," Greta said. Phasma nodded, never once breaking from my face.

 _My_ eyes? My plain brown eyes? There was nothing notable about their color, certainly not in comparison to Phasma's, but I did remember feeling some residual charge when I first laid eyes on her. Perhaps, even through her helmet, she'd experienced something of my talent. Now, though, the reserves of anger and hatred that I'd tried to use in self-defense were memories scattered like shipwrecks along the shores of this woman's sea. My gaze was inert, but she still found something about them that was worth commenting on.

"Greta, please remove Riala's communicator," Captain Phasma said, turning away from me and addressing the other woman. It had taken me until just now to realize that none of the others in her quarters, now seated comfortably in her sitting area and chatting amongst themselves in muted tones, were wearing theirs either.

With her face directed away from mine, I found myself freed, to some small degree, from the daze she'd had me in, and I felt the gears in my brain start to turn once more, albeit sluggishly. Something was very strange about this Captain, and while it intrigued me and drew me to her, part of me, the part that sought self-preservation wanted to know what her game was.

Greta came to me and began to loosen the clamps that locked the communicator in place around the ends of my braids and at the base of my throat. I was grateful when its weight and hard edges were removed, and questioned the dark-skinned woman with a glance before she walked away, though she didn't seem to acknowledge the unspoken query. I watched her deposit it on a table.

"But what if they need to contact me?" I asked, unable to stop myself. When Greta turned back to me, she was smiling.

"They won't. Not here."

I couldn't begin to puzzle over this when a firm touch upon my chin interrupted my thoughts and guided my face forward. I realized with a shock that the touch belonged to Captain Phasma. She was standing close to me, and her skin was touching mine. She lifted my chin and made me look her in the face. Her voice was low, quiet, intimate.

"You need not fear your Masters in here, Riala," she said. A creeping warmth was beginning to rise from my belly to my chest. The muted conversation around us had stopped, and I felt as though all were watching me now. "You're safe from your obligations, for a time at least."

My eyes flickered to Greta, who bore a subtle, knowing smile on her face as she watched me.

"Would you like to stay with me?" Phasma asked, pulling my attention back to her. I would be a willing slave to those eyes, and to that touch. My nod was immediate.

"Please," I said, cheeks still burning from the boldness in my request. "I never want to leave."

Phasma laughed, her cheeks pink, her eyes dancing, and I thought the sound could lift me into the air. I felt the corners of my mouth rise as though her mirth were contagious. I was somewhat aware that the people sitting in her quarters were standing and leaving. Greta carried the helmet to the alcove and placed it on the bust along with the other pieces of armor already removed.

"You're here now. So what do you want to do?"

My capacity to answer such a question, as with any other higher-functioning train of thought so far this evening, was lost to the very devastating effect this woman had on me, and my breath caught audibly in my throat. The very concept that I would have my own desires and interests, and that anyone else would want to know them, was absurd. Thoughts of my curiosity about her, and my attraction to her, and a sudden, fierce desire to touch her face rushed into my mind, eclipsing everything else.

"I want to kiss you," I said without thinking. With horror, the meaning of the words I'd just spoke hit me. My hand began to shake at my side and my frantic eyes moved around the room for an escape, and my entire body tensed up. I could hear nothing but the heartbeat in my ears. I had never said such a thing to anyone before, let alone another woman, and now I had uttered the statement to her. But then, the shining vision before me was not what I would have simply called a female, she was something beyond gender and classification, something better and brighter than a base creature such as myself whose organs seemed to define too much of my function in this world. She was smiling. This time it reached her eyes.

"Is that so?"

While my mind reeled and toiled with the monumental task of restoring myself to a sentient being capable of intelligent speech, Captain Phasma leaned down and kissed me.

When I say she kissed me, what I mean to say was that her soft pink lips touched mine, and the immensity and weight of the entire planet seemed to cave in at the warm, supple point of contact between our mouths. The ground gave way beneath my feet and an entire ocean of raw, organic visceral energy fell upon me until I was swallowed beneath the heavy waves, my entire being reduced to a miniscule fragment of a fragment, tossed helplessly in the turmoil and tumult of pure, unbridled sexual desire that was far too great to be originating merely from within myself.

Suddenly, too soon, the contact was broken, and as if pulled by some inexorable gravity, awareness of my surroundings returned, so much duller than the place I had been moments before when her lips were on mine. One strong arm was circled around my back, and I realized that she was holding me steady, and that she was the only thing keeping me standing. I had completely forgotten my place. Not only that, but I had forgotten myself entirely.

That had never happened before. Looking at her face, I could see that her pale cheeks were flushed, her rich stormy eyes shining brightly in the light of her quarters, an unguarded moment shared between us. She wanted me, too, it was clear. I was suddenly aware of the abundant slickness between my legs. Self-consciously, I regained my balance, though I dared not move away from the hand that lingered, gripping my back almost zealously. Instead, I found myself moving closer to her.

"Riala," she said, her voice a throaty whisper. She swallowed and blinked. I could hear her breathing and I wanted to take her breaths into my own lungs and live on her air. "I don't know what that was, but I want more of it. Tell me… are you interested in other women?"

My eyes flickered behind her through the open doorway to her bed and then down as I moved my thighs to relieve the ache that was growing between them.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, though with an edge of impatience. My heart was in my throat. "I just know that I want you more than I've ever wanted anything." And then, after a beat, "if it pleases you."

I heard her let out her breath, and the hand on my back tightened. I heard the door to her quarters open and close and was aware suddenly Greta had left and we were alone.

She didn't need any more encouragement. Numbly, I wondered at the fact that she had actually waited for my consent before she scooped me into her arms with great ease and guided my hands around her neck. I risked a few kisses on her cheek and neck as she strode on long legs through the door into the bedroom.

There, she tossed me upon the red coverlet with exhilarating enthusiasm. Her long form was soon above me. She was still in her armored leggings, but made quick work of removing them, tossing them unceremoniously upon the floor with an obscene clatter, her eyes never leaving mine.

I had only just begun to worry about what I should do next when at that moment, her large, long-fingered hands with their short, neat nails were expertly finding and unfastening the seams to my uniform. I couldn't control the breaths that heaved within my chest as the anticipation of what was coming.

With one hand she continued to disrobe me with incredible speed and accuracy, and before I could catch my breath, she was kissing me again, this time her lips were parted and I opened myself to her as much as I could, desiring to draw her into me. I wanted to consume her, to taste her forever on my tongue, but it wasn't enough. In a moment I was nearly naked, but she still wore her black form-fitting body suit, and though her weight bore me down into the thick mattress, and I could feel her hard, firm body and the heat of her between her legs, I wanted to know more. I wanted to know how I could please her. _Please, please_ , I thought, _let me show you my gratitude. Let me be yours._

Ineffectively and tentatively, I tried to focus on finding some way to remove her clothes, but then her fingers found the source of the slickness and the trembling heat between my legs, and I released a vocal gasp as a shock shot through my body from the direct contact. Just as quickly, my desire to disrobe her was completely forgotten. She pulled away from the kiss, then, which was just as well, because the firm, smooth movements of her fingers across the bundle of nerves in my clitoris was making it difficult to focus on my mouth.

I felt my eyes roll back for how completely I was consumed by a singular focus on the sensation building in my spine and radiating outward from her hand to my abdomen and thighs. I felt rather than heard the involuntary vocalizations coming from me, but I could do nothing about them. I could only allow myself to succumb to Captain Phasma's perfect dexterity and control while the muscles in my abdomen and thighs tensed and strained toward the pleasure.

Her free hand held her upper body aloft and when I thought to look at her, I could see her staring at me with something akin to wonder. The color was high in her cheeks and the desire burned in her eyes while her other hand almost pulsed across my raw, engorged nerve endings. When she saw my eyes on her, she leaned in and planted soft kisses. My hungry mouth found hers and I tried to pull her down onto me, but laughing, she pulled away.

The sensation in my spine was transforming into a burning, a hot, prickling fire within my veins that threatened to consume and overwhelm me. I felt that it would destroy me. But at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be destroyed at the hands of this woman. Without even slowing the intense assault on my clitoris, I felt a finger, her thumb, slip inside of me, adding another layer of acute sensation to the rest, and it was as if she had lit a fuse within me. I felt myself clench around her digit and move against her.

The pressure grew in the base of my spine. Something was happening, something that I didn't understand. It felt like I was being lifted by some impossible physical presence, a presence that seemed to come primarily from far beneath. It felt like an ocean.

Every muscle in my body tightened and tightened some more as if an electrical current were coursing through me. The sensations were on the verge of being tortuously unbearable, but I wanted more. I sensed that there was so much more.

The entirety of my universe shrank until it was contained within the white hot electrical storm beneath my skin.

There was a shockwave inside of me, and every muscle shuddered to contain it until it became one indistinguishable euphoria that filled me and swallowed me whole until my muscles fell slack and it flared outward from the tips of my fingers and toes.

For an unknown amount of time, hours or seconds, I existed in a place between consciousness and unconsciousness. Even as I began to return to awareness, I found that I was unable and unwilling to leave the fuzzy contentment behind. Slowly, though, as if emerging from darkness into bright light, my senses returned to me.

Captain Phasma's long body was on its side next to me, her head propped up on one hand. The other rested lightly on my naked belly and she was looking at me, eyebrow arched over eyes that no longer shone with desire, but with a curious, almost analytical glint.

She was smirking, though, and that small upturn of the outer corners of her delicious mouth was all I needed to see to know that somehow, what she had done to me had greatly pleased her. In the fading warmth of my powerful climax, it was reassuring.

Cautiously, I sat up and stretched, savoring the way residual pleasure stored in my muscles seemed to spread to the rest of me when I did so.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asked as I leaned back and rest on my elbows. I smiled and sighed.

"I've never felt like that before," I said, still partially lost in the memory of it. She sat up as well, resting her arms on her knees as she looked at me. She was no longer touching me, and while that one minor break in contact was nearly unbearable to me, I curbed my dismay.

"Nor have I," she said. I puzzled over this, trying to remember if I'd touched her, but she was still wearing her body suit. And then, as though commenting to herself, she said, "there is something strange about you. Something… unique."

Unsure of how to take the odd compliment, I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. It seemed as though our sexual encounter was complete, though I wondered what she could have possibly gained from it. Slowly, with a grace that was surprising given her strong body, she rotated toward the edge of the bed and stood up. I was struck by how stunning she was, how gloriously beautiful with her short, flipped hair mussed by our activities, her body's silhouette like a sculpture of an athletic god.

Without saying another word, she strolled into the next room, leaving me puzzled and dismayed on her bed. I suddenly felt too naked and out of place. I had no idea what was expected of me now. I had lucked out and managed to get a Captain, or perhaps someone beyond the rank, into bed with me. She had been kind, and with a skill clearly born of practice, she had given me the most ground-shattering orgasm I'd ever felt. In fact, when compared with my past experienced of self-ministrations, I wasn't sure I'd ever brought myself to climax at all. But now, I thought it best to prepare. I pulled my leggings from where they lay on the floor and tugged them onto my bare legs. I was reaching for the chest wrap when she re-entered the room.

In her hands she held two tall glasses with water. She sat on the edge of the bed, compressing the mattress with her weight, and offered one to me. I finished pulling the wrap on before accepting it. She took a long drink. I did the same, aware that she was watching me still with that curious look in her eyes.

"When does your next duty shift begin?" she asked. A sharp pang of dread hit me with the realization that this would not last forever.

"0-700," I answered with a sigh. Every passing moment seemed to bring greater weight on my chest and I hugged my legs closer. She nodded.

"You may leave when you are ready," she said then. I looked up at her suddenly, searching her face for any sign of a cruel jest, but she wasn't even looking at me. Her face seemed distant, distracted.

"You are done with me, then?" I asked. I felt that I might cry. Instead, I pushed the feeling down and forced my face to relax into a neutral expression. She looked at me, then as if coming back from somewhere else. A large hand rested atop one of mine, stilling the nervous fretting I hadn't even been aware of until that moment and sending a shiver through me.

"That isn't what I meant," she said, her eyes softening. "If you would rather be in your own bed-"

"No," I said too quickly, interrupting her. One corner of her mouth hitched. I amended my statement. "No, _Sir_. If it is all the same to you, I'd rather stay here. With you."

Her hand squeezed mine before moving away again. "You are welcome to stay, then. In my bed, if you'd like. But I may not sleep for awhile yet." She gestured to the small door in the bedroom, which seemed to lead into a personal refresher. "Feel free to use my facilities. I will see you in the morning, Riala."

With that, she stood. She was in her own world again, but at the moment, I didn't mind. The bedroom door slid closed behind her and I looked around myself in disbelief. She'd left me alone in her room. _Her bed._ I shifted my weight on the bed, marveling at how soft and plush it was, how inviting. And then I fell back onto her pillows with a silent laugh. I rolled over and buried my face in one of her pillows. It was clean, but still bore some trace of her scent, and I breathed deep. After my lungs had their fill, I looked toward the refresher.

I'd always shared a toilet and sink with Armata and Dakan. Once, there had been a fourth in our bunk, another male, but he had left for a duty shift one night and did not return. We didn't mention him. The luxury of a personal refresher was beyond what I could imagine having myself, let alone a shower. Slaves were granted one use of shared shower facilities every two days, and then our ID clasp only allowed enough time for a brief bodily cleansing before the flow of water was cut off.

I briefly considered making use of her shower, but my thoughts were interrupted by my own large yawn. I was tired from the day's activities, and her bed was so soft and warm that any further thought of taking advantage of her generous offer was forgotten. I didn't want to sleep, I though as I laid back on her bed and stared up at her ceiling. I wanted to savor this for as long as I could. But even so, I rolled onto my side and my lids grew heavy.

The next thing I knew, someone was speaking my name. I looked up, momentarily confused as to my location, and saw Greta standing in the bedroom doorway. Phasma's large bed was empty, but I could see an indentation in the sheets next to me where she must have slept. I sighed and fell back, disappointed that I had not been awake to see her.

"It's nearly 0645," Greta said. That was enough to make my languid muscles begin working again.

"Is the Captain…" I started, but my question trailed off and I felt heat come to my face. Greta looked down and smiled.

"She had to leave," she said. Disappointment curled in my chest as I let my legs hang over the side of the bed. I began to dress myself in mute disappointment. Without a word, Greta came over to me and helped me into the uniform. Long, graceful fingers worked the hook and eye closures and straightened the material until it fit me just right. "There is food for you. You'd best eat something before you go."

I thanked her quietly before following her into the main room. It was empty of servants apart from us. I caught her moving over to the workstation console and enter a command into the interface. The windows that had been displayed closed before I could see anything on them, and then she directed me to the kitchen area where tall stools stood before a high counter. I took one of the chairs at her gesture. A plate of some kind of porridge and cut fruit was waiting for me, a fragrant steam tantalizing my appetite. Greta busied herself with a hot caf maker, pouring two cups. She handed one to me and took the other for herself. I stared at it in disbelief before allowing myself to taste it. I'd never had it before, but the flavors were complex and not entirely unpleasant.

Greta leaned against the counter opposite me and sipped, and I found myself irresistibly curious about the older woman. She wore the garb of a servant, but she did not carry herself like one. Her thick black hair was in braids, much like mine, but in a style that was refined.

"Are you her servant?" I asked, finally venturing a taste of the porridge. It was creamy and delicious and I almost let a groan of appreciation slip from my mouth before I could stop it. Greta smirked.

"Something like that," she said, taking another sip. She seemed to think for a moment before adding, "I help her with her affairs."

The answer was vague, and I sensed that there was more to it, but I dared not ask. The next moments passed in silence as I ate, my mind working. I would have to leave this perfect place soon, as much as I didn't want to. Finally, I asked the question I'd been meaning to ask since the night before.

"What am I to do now?" I asked. Greta seemed to understand the true meaning of the question as she took my empty cup and bowl to the kitchen area and set them aside on the counter. With a gesture, she indicated that I should stand, and I did so, allowing her to lead me to the door.

"Now, you continue with your obligations, and your service, to the First Order." I forced my face to betray none of the sadness I felt as she picked up my comm clamp from the table and affixed it to my braids for me. "She wanted me to give you a message before you left."

My eyes snapped to hers, and I was breathless with anticipation.

"She said that she will call on you again. Soon, if she is able."

I couldn't stop my smile from showing, and finally allowed myself to breathe again.

"Thank you," I said to her. She nodded before opening the door to the Captain's quarters. Before I could ask, she pointed to a previously overlooked door across the hall. In the dim lighting, and with no recognizable panel, it was nearly invisible, as was intended. I nodded my understanding and left Phasma's room. The door closed behind me, and after walking across the hall, the hidden door recognized my ID and opened. Servant access corridors were spread throughout the base, but I had no idea they reached even here.

In them, slaves and servants could move about the base without being seen, and without adding to foot traffic in the main passageways. I appreciated the privacy as I followed the indicators back to the Service sector, for it allowed my mind to wander. I didn't want to return to duty, but I couldn't deny that the last night's sleep was the best I'd had in a long time. Despite what lay ahead of me, I knew that I would be seeing Phasma again, and the thought made me carry myself a little higher.


	4. Death and Mercy

My heart beat loudly in my ears, a constant static of noise that made it hard to hear anything else. The low-ranking assisting officer, a corporal something or other, was rattling through our instructions in a bored, monotone voice. On either side of me stood more like myself, and their faces reflected how I felt inside: terrified.

Every exit in the small, dingy holding bay was manned by an armed guard posted to prevent any attempts to escape. The young officer at the front had stopped talking and now we all stood in silence while he scanned a datapad in his hand. Periodically he smirked as he read whatever was on the screen, and then scrolled past it with a finger. Someone was crying quietly to my left. I tuned them out and closed my eyes. I needed to gather my wits before he was instructed to let us out.

Of course, where my thoughts immediately took me brought little comfort.

Within hours after my night spent with Phasma, the cold reality of my life supplanted the memories of the evening before. It seemed more like a beautiful dream than something I had actually experienced. I had to be delusional to think that a Captain would notice me, would take me back to her bed, would care about my wellbeing or consent. And least likely of all, would want to see me again.

Perhaps my ego had been affected more than was good for me. Perhaps I'd though that after such a stellar first night of active duty, the rest of my orders would be as enjoyable. Either way, my judgement was not as it should have been. When I received orders from an officer in Service Command to report to the waste processing droid repair bay that morning, I must have let the disgust and contempt I had for the duty show in my face. The next moment, I was on the floor with a throbbing pain on my cheekbone and a sharp headache, my skin still stinging where I'd been struck.

That was my first infraction. I was sent to the task despite my pain. That day I worked twelve hours without pause cleaning gunked-up sewage sweeper droids within the claustrophobic repair bay. Additionally, my food rations were halved. Not that I had any appetite that day; cleaning shit and other offal from the gears in the small droids ensured that food was far from my mind.

Nothing had changed. As before, my treatment was determined entirely by the whim of the one giving me orders. I could only thank chance that it had not been the Overseer. He'd struck me unconscious once for arguing with him about something inconsequential. It was discouraged to damage First Order property, but I doubted the information had ever reached his betters.

Two days later, after surviving on less nourishment than I was accustomed to, I committed my second infraction. In the mess hall, I made the mistake of attempting to manipulate the server into giving me more than my allotted portion. Weakened by hunger, I tried to convince the server that they had underserved me, willing my Gaze to aid in the deception. I failed, unable to conjure anything but a headache, and the server withdrew what she had already given me. Worse, my attempt was overheard by a guard.

This time, I was taken to the Overseer himself. He did not hit me, but he seemed to take particular glee in closing a shock collar around my neck as he told me that I would be working with the cadets for the remainder of the week. The week only had two days left in it, but he might as well have sentenced me to death. With barely enough calories to function, let alone spar with young, fit, soldiers-in-training. Of course, the term 'spar' was not entirely accurate.

A cough next to me brought me back to the present and I looked to see an old woman clad in the same absurd trash that passed for protective gear that I had been given. A dark purple bruise covered her left eye and cheek. On my other side stood a frail-looking teenaged boy with a gag in his mouth. Wickedly, the gag had also been locked around his head with a brace so that it couldn't be removed. He was shaking so hard that the battered piece of durasteel strapped to his chest rattled. Whatever he'd done, likely speaking out of turn based on the specific nature of his punishment, he was paying for it now. I felt a brief twinge of pity for him before I remembered that I was in the same situation, and in no position to feel pity for anyone.

The truth, evident to any that understood the First Order's methodology, was that 'sparring' was nothing more than a euphemism for a part of the military conditioning process. It was a way to train the empathy out of soldiers. Not all training commanders engaged in this practice; though it was allowed, it was still frowned upon. Slaves knew the ones that did by name. Today, my group had been requested by a Sergeant Claridge. I hoped that his class was one of the younger grades.

Suddenly, there was a sound. The assistant trainer tilted his head as his comm crackled.

" _Let them in,_ " the voice on the other end said. He punched a large button to the side of the bay door and the multi-jointed panel rose and retracted into the ceiling, bathing all within from the bottom up in blinding white light. Now the sounds of the great space beyond filtered in.

The door opened onto one of the many flight channels on the interior of the base; vast, level floor stretched in either direction, walls the better part of a kilometer apart, and a ceiling high enough that flights of transporters, fighters, and bombers could easily clear it. I knew that far to one end, there was a large door that led to the outside, though I couldn't see it.

Currently, the area around us was in use for cadet training, PT, and drilling. Commanders leading the companies of cadets and soldiers shouted orders, and many dozens of voices responded in synchronous answer, though much of the sound seemed to be absorbed by the largeness of the space. The sobbing behind me became more frantic. Every single muscle in my body was tense, each breath fast and small like that of a tiny rodent.

The image of a snow rat came into my mind. As one of the few native species that still clung to life on the surface of the base planet, they served as remnants of what Starkiller might have been once, before it was repurposed. Many felt them to be pests, and despite being hunted by the youngest cadets for target practice, somehow they still managed to eke out an existence. They survived and even thrived.

Somehow, I would too.

The cadets that the corporal lead us to were not young. If I had to guess, I might have placed them in their late teens, though with helmets it was difficult to tell. Most were my height, some even taller. Males. I gripped the reinforced plastisteel pipe they'd given me as a weapon.

I felt my body jerk as a sharp, low-level shock from my collar urged me forward at the same time that the corporal ordered us to attack. I recovered as quickly as I could and, adrenaline pumping, rushed to meet the ready students.

Sergeant Claridge shouted orders. In formation, the white-suited young soldiers moved forward, armed with nothing but their fists. The two sides crashed together. I took a fist to the center of my chest and fell back gasping as battle erupted around me.

Claridge shouted in what was more a wordless cry than a command. The soldiers understood and advanced, striking or fending off attacks as needed. Someone fell beside me. Far to my right, two slaves were knocked down.

The old woman was nowhere to be seen, I looked behind me to see her body laying still.

While I was distracted, the fist struck me out of nowhere and I hit the floor hard. I fought through my daze and crawled to my feet, only to land on my back when a leg swept my feet from under me.

Over and over, Claridge had us advance. Each time, he issued some new set of orders to his cadets. Occasionally he shouted commands at us, simple ones like "hold," and "advance." When he felt that the lesson was well enough learned, he made us draw back, ordered his cadets to return to start form.

I made it to forty-five minutes before I no longer had the strength to stand again. Better than most, not as good as some. Every inch of me was in pain. A layer of sweat dampened my clothes beneath my armor and I was half blinded by the mingled sweat and blood that had dripped into my eye from a stinging cut.

The lesson was over soon after that. Claridge had us taken away to our medbay, I noted that the old woman did not come with us.

My shock collar was removed, and I stayed the rest of the day there covered in bacta wraps and anti-inflammatory medgel. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to find a position that alleviated the discomfort. There were some kind of pain relieving meds in the dressings, but dulling my nerves only gave me a chance to feel the hunger gnawing at my belly. Around me, med techs rushed about tending to various work-related injuries, medical droids took temperatures and performed other minor tasks.

As the day wore on, seemingly without end, I tried to think of Phasma. I needed respite from the hell I was in, but without fail I found my thoughts leading me to her curious behavior rather than the pleasant memories I sought. I pondered the fact that she'd been particularly taken with my eyes. Instead of feeling flattered, it made me feel uneasy. I knew about my Gaze, but until now it had been a minor thing, almost a novelty. The situation, however, had changed. After today, I couldn't ignore how little I actually understood of it, and how potentially dangerous that was. My pains interrupted my thoughts and I rolled over when my side began to ache beneath my weight. I lay so that I faced a wall. By now, I was well familiar with the scuffs and tiny dents on its surface.

I might have dozed for a moment before I heard someone approaching from behind. Without turning to see, I had a feeling that I knew who it was.

"You look half dead."

Armata.

I didn't answer her. My eyes were fixed on the surface in front of me where a bolt was missing on the corner of a metal panel. A ring of rust had started to expand outward from the hole. I thought of the soft, pale walls inside of Phasma's quarters, sighed and closed my eyes.

The front corner of my mattress sank under a second body's weight. The motion caused my leg to shift, shooting a bolt of pain through my hip and up my side. I grimaced and finally turned to look at her. She was perched on the edge of the bed, her back straight and her profile turned to me. She always managed to look haughty, even when she wasn't trying to. At least I found a new distraction in my fresh resentment.

"I heard what you did. Talking back to the Overseer. Speaking out of turn with a server," she said, her voice neutral. I didn't answer. Breathing was uncomfortable enough without having to speak. But the ire in my gut began to stir. "I'm impressed."

The sarcasm didn't surprise me. I waited for the verbal barb that was surely coming next. Lacking the energy to argue with her, I would have to let her gloat.

"I also know that they cut your rations and you haven't eaten well in days."

I turned my head away from her and closed my eyes. I was so tired.

"What's your point?"

There was a slow sigh.

"My point is, I'm going to give you mine."

The heat from my anger dissipated instantly. I looked at her in disbelief. Her eyes met mine without flinching for the first time in longer than I could remember.

"I don't want your pity," I said, even as my stomach growled.

"Don't worry, you don't have it. Despite everything, Riala, I don't hate you. But I have no love for you either."

A moment passed and I listened to the sounds of the medbay around us.

"I know."

She looked away now, her eyes dropping to her folded hands.

"My family died that day, just like yours. I don't remember much, but I remember you. You were quiet. Closed off. I needed a friend, Riala. You were a monster."

When I blinked, I could see fire in that moment of darkness. A flashback of the nightmares I'd been having. _Stop thinking about it_ , I urged myself. _You mustn't think about it._

"If the price of a ration is listening to your lecture, I'm not interested." Even as I said the words, the accompanying guilt made me wish I could take them back. I didn't mean it. But it was automatic. She seemed unfazed.

"No. I don't expect you care, even now. Even facing another day of this." She gestured at me, and I was suddenly aware of how I must have looked, bruised and injured. I'd been laying too still and my aching back called for a change in position. With a grunt, I forced myself to sit up.

Something light landed on my lap and I looked down to see a dried ration packet.

"This is all I have. But I suspect it won't do you much good."

I sighed, my breath cut off by the pain in my ribs. She knew that my punishment was as good as a death sentence.

"Two days in a row," I said. She nodded. We both understood. It was unusual to punish a slave in this manner and with such severity over such relatively minor transgressions, because it caused undue damage to First Order property, or death. _You're trouble_ , the Overseer had said to me. Perhaps too much trouble.

"Try to survive," Armata said. "Don't let them win." I started to respond but she was already walking away.

When I felt well enough to sit up, I ate the ration she'd given me. And then I rolled over and dozed off, finally.

Nightmares plagued me. Though activity in the medbay died down, and a low, thin partition was wheeled over between the infirmary beds, it wasn't enough. I found myself frequently jolted awake by noise.

My waking minutes passed like hours, but I could tell that my injuries were healing. I didn't even know that I'd fallen asleep until the sound of my comms chirped to life, startling me awake.

" _Report to Sergeant Claridge,_ " the voice of the Overseer said to me. " _You are already late._ "


	5. Phasma's Revelation

I was late. When I arrived in the holding bay, I was alone but for the guards, and the front door was already open. There was no officer to direct me, only stormtroopers that thrust a shield into my arms: a battered durasteel sheet with crude cloth grips riveted on the back of it. The next moment, I was pushed out into the larger space beyond. I immediately saw that it was empty of cadets today but for one group: Sergeant Claridge's. Something was wrong. My mind raced to understand why I was by myself, why there were no other personnel in the vast, empty interior of the flight channel.

The sergeant leaned down toward the cadet nearest to him and said something. The cadet nodded and stepped forward. He was unarmed, but he carried himself with such sureness that I knew he meant to do harm.

Claridge signaled the beginning, his sallow face oozing derision, and the cadet strolled forward.

For some reason, I thought that I might like to try and hold my own and perhaps even fight back. I used my makeshift shield to ward off blows so jarring that my shoulder and elbow started to become sore. And then, swift strikes to my weak points sent me staggering backwards. But he didn't advance, he simply circled.

He was toying with me.

The next series of attacks, or rounds as they seemed to be, were increasingly merciless. Every time, I tried to block him, and every time, he exploited a different weak point.

After a feint, a fist slammed into my ribs. I fell, dropping my weapon on impact with the ground.

For a moment I could not breathe.

"Get up," the sergeant ordered me. "And pick up your armor."

One of the other cadets shouted encouragement to the one facing off with me.

"Now, one must never strike an unarmed opponent," Claridge admonished the jeering cadet. "At least, that is what the Resistance would have us do."

A ripple of derisive laughter moved over the group, and I knew I needed to move. I groped for the shield. I grabbed something else. I didn't have a moment to register that it was a boot before it was lifted up and then slammed back down on my hand. Blinding pain.

I screamed; the boot only grinded my bent fingers further into the hard floor. Agony. My scream became a hoarse wail. I desperately tried to pull my hand free, but the boot only pressed down harder.

I heard something crack and pain knifed clear to my shoulder.

Then the pressure was gone. I clutched my ruined hand to my chest, sobbing. Everything past the elbow throbbed in fiery agony.

A second later, I saw a body in white armor hit the floor and slide. All other sounds became hushed.

"Sergeant," a clear, firm voice rang out. Phasma. I ventured to push myself upright with my good hand. "I think your man has proven his callousness."

"Captain," Claridge uttered, clearly startled. He recovered quickly. "I am under orders to-"

"Execute her?" Phasma interjected. I blinked the haze from my eyes. Phasma towered there, a long black cloak instead of red draped over her shoulder, the dazzling suit of armor almost blinding in my blurred vision. The cadet that had been thrown to the floor began to push himself up. Claridge was staring at Phasma with a tense, determined look on his face.

"Harsh lessons are sometimes necessary, Phasma. She has already been marked as a potential loss."

I saw Phasma draw herself up then, somehow making herself appear even larger. Claridge wilted.

"And who gave you the order?" she demanded, her voice dropping to a dangerous pitch. "I suspect the commanders would be very interested to know, too."

The sergeant blanched and looked around himself. When he saw the blank white faces of the cadets staring back, he stood up straighter and cleared his throat.

"It doesn't matter. We're done here anyway." Claridge gave a low whistle and made a hasty retreat toward one of the exits. The cadets initially hesitated, but soon followed their commander. The other groups began to do the same. I tried to move and perhaps return to my feet, but bolt of pain ignited itself when I tried to move my hand and I let go of a strangled cry. I didn't want to look at it.

In a second, Phasma was striding forward. She crouched down and scooped me into her arms. I tried to swallow my pain when my tender, bruised flesh came into contact with the hard material of her armor. I fought through it to hold onto her, wrapping my arms about her neck and burying my face against her front. She walked, but her body was like a steady pillar in a stormy sea. When I dared to open my eyes, I could see that three of my fingers were bent at odd angles and the entire hand was starting to swell and color. I cried, but she said nothing more as she carried me away.

No one questioned us. No one spoke to her. I remember, after a journey that took ages, feeling a sharp prick in my arm and then falling forever into a warm, fragrant ocean. All pain faded into a comfortable lack of feeling.

I heard voices as I drifted in and out. I was aware that there was something over my nose and mouth feeding me air. And then a wash of sparkling pleasure would send me blissfully back to sleep.

I woke when I felt the heaviness of my body again. My muscles twitched and I opened my eyes. I saw a soft offwhite ceiling gently illuminated by a lamp. I breathed. The air was fresh, but there was a hint of herbal fragrance.

"Phasma, she's awake," a voice whispered.

I heard footsteps and moved my head. There was no pain, and when I saw Phasma's face, I forgot all else. She was framed in a halo of short, white-blonde hair. With the light of her quarters behind her, it glowed like fire. Greta was standing in the doorway, but when I looked at her, she looked down and stepped out. The door closed behind her.

"How do you feel?" she asked. Slowly, with her hand on my arm, I pushed myself up.

"I feel… good," I said, perplexed. I tore my eyes away from hers to look at my hand. It was whole, and aside from some lingering bruising, was almost completely as it should have appeared. I tenderly flexed my fingers and, aside from a faint ache in the joints, it was as if they had never been broken.

I looked back to her again, stunned. A question was balance on my tongue, but she spoke first.

"You were in an intensive bacta tank for more than a day. The bruising should heal within the week."

Bacta. That explained the scent.

"You saved me," I said to her. She sighed and stretched, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Not nearly soon enough," she said, her brow furrowing before she looked at me from the corner of her eye. "I believe that he would not have stopped if I hadn't arrived."

As I'd suspected, the punishment had been a death sentence. _Trouble. That's what you are, 221784-R._

"The Overseer wanted me gone," I said, remembering the barely restrained satisfaction in his voice when he ordered me to report to Claridge again. I felt a faint lurch of what might have been anger. "But he's a coward and wouldn't do it himself."

Phasma was looking at me then with keen interest.

"You are clever, aren't you?" she asked with a subtle smile.

Before I could think to ask what she meant by that, Greta re-entered the room with a steaming cup of something and a datapad. She handed them both to Phasma, who then offered the cup to me.

"Drink this," she ordered, her eyes warmer than they had been the last time we'd seen one another. I accepted it and complied, shuddering when the bitter liquid hit my tongue. She seemed to gain some enjoyment from this reaction. "I know, it tastes terrible. But it's medicine."

I choked it down as quickly as I could, not caring how the hot liquid burned my throat. It was then that I realized that my comm ID clamp was missing, and that someone had washed and twisted my hair into a single, neat braid. Greta stood there watching me, her hair in a similar fashion.

"Does Service command know where I am?" I asked. If I'd been out for a few days, I could only imagine the amount of work that would be waiting for me, regardless of my injuries. Phasma lighted a hand on my wrist, quelling my anxieties.

"I've taken care of it." The ambiguous statement didn't do much to soothe me, but I was starting to feel drowsy again. "Just do what you can to recover. You're safe here."

Greta said something about a message coming in from the General, and Phasma's hands gently guided me back down into the soft pillow.

I woke without remembering any dreams. I could hear voices in the next room. Groggy, I slid to the edge of the bed and stood, unsteady on my feet at first before I made my way to the refresher.

When I emerged, I thought to return to bed, but the voices in the next room drew me over to the door. I took a small blanket from the bed and wrapped it around myself. Without opening the door, I listened.

"…need more sleep. In a bed." It was Greta. My heart began to beat a little faster when I realized that I was likely overhearing something private.

"Let her rest a little bit longer first."

"You're taking this too personally."

"Of course I am. Our objective is complete because of her." I heard the creak of furniture, the faint clack of ceramic. I touched the door panel and the bedroom door opened.

When I entered, Phasma was sitting at her console, her posture bent, and Greta was sitting on a couch with a cup and saucer in her hand. The moment she saw me, Phasma straightened up and stood.

"Riala," the Captain said. My mind worked over what I'd heard. "How are you feeling?"

I looked between them. Greta said nothing.

"Did you use me to get Claridge?" I asked, point blank. I'd been hoping to get an unguarded reaction from Phasma, perhaps force her to reveal her hidden agenda, but I was disappointed. Instead of surprise, her eyes took on that same analytical glint that I'd seen before.

"I told you that you were clever. But no, Riala, I did not use you to get to Sergeant Claridge."

"Then what was your objective? The one I helped you complete?"

"Olin Swailes was my objective. Your Overseer." Her voice was steady. "Claridge was a bonus. You helped us, and others like you. Both are facing formal dishonorable exile."

I looked at Greta again, looked closely at her clothing. Her uniform was different, or at least not one that I recognized. If I had ever taken her for a slave, I could see now that I was mistaken.

"Greta has been helping you spy on other officers," I said, startled for how obvious it seemed to me now. Phasma smiled.

"No, Riala, not spy. Observe. Report. Weed out corruption. It is part of my position, but few know of it outside of my friends."

Her friends. I remembered the slaves I'd seen relaxing in her quarters.

"Did you use me?" I was surprised with how clearly my hurt was reflected in my voice, but I didn't take it back. Phasma stepped close to me, touched my arm with her hand.

"What happened to you was inexcusable." Her voice became hard, her eyes distant. "And far too common. I didn't use you intentionally. When you left me, I simply made sure that I was informed of your whereabouts."

"You had someone watching me," I said. Despite my misgivings, I found the thought comforting. Phasma smiled and took my hands in hers.

"Not closely enough. But because of you, I was able to find evidence of Overseer Swailes misconduct."

"Phasma," Greta said. The stately older woman was standing. "You need to tell her."

Phasma looked to her and sighed.

"Tell me what?" Was there another layer to this? I tried to focus on the warmth of her hands as they enveloped mine, tried to keep my breathing steady.

"I knew that there was something curious about you the moment I saw you. Something that you weren't even fully aware of. I suspect you are starting to know, however, based on the behaviors you displayed this week."

I gave her a blank look, but my thoughts immediately jumped to the moment I had attempted to use my Gaze to influence the food server. Did she know about my talent? Her tone was not accusatory, so I felt no fear. She lead me with gentle insistence toward the sitting area and indicated that I should sit. I took a seat in the chair and Phasma sat on the end of her couch nearest me.

"Riala, I suspect that you have some ability with… the Force."

The Force. My brows knitted as I tried to remember anything I knew about the power of which she spoke. I knew that there were some specialized personnel with unique abilities. The Supreme Leader was said to be powerful in this regard. There were even rumors, something about one of the top Commanders of the Order wielding this power. But they were nothing but whispers, hushed and superstitious. Surely my stupid little talent was nothing like that. If anything, it seemed to get me into trouble more than it helped me.

"The moment I saw your eyes, I felt a… pull. And then, later, when we were together," she said with the familiar glint in her eyes, the curious and fascinated shine. "I felt everything that you felt. Somehow, you were able to… share it with me."

As I remembered her hands touching me, her lips, my heart began to pound, almost to the point that it was banging against the front of my ribs, as if I had just run many miles.

I found that I had shifted closer to her without meaning to. I remembered how aroused she had been after our kiss, and how badly I'd wanted to please her the way she had done for me.

"You enjoyed it," I said, looking at her hands. They were almost rough. She was no stranger to hard work. I thought of how gentle, and how hard, they could be. Warmth rose in my face.

"Yes. Very much so. I want you to know that I'm not usually so… impulsive."

"I'm glad you were," I said, swallowing hard.

Greta coughed lightly and I could see her standing up.

"I see that you have this under control," she said with a knowing look on her face. She paused at the door, a comm clasp in her hands. "Shall I inform the Commander of this development?"

"Not yet," Phasma stated. Greta took a second to absorb this before she nodded and left. Phasma turned to me, and as though in answer to the question on my face, she said, "if you do have some ability with the Force, Riala, I will need to report it."

I blanched, terror making me forget the pleasant warmth that had been growing inside of me.

"Please don't," I said more sharply than I'd intended, suddenly terrified that my secret talent would be discovered, that I would be punished for it. "I… it's nothing."

"I wouldn't say it's nothing," she said with a smile that softened the edge of my nerves. "I won't say anything yet. But it's very important that you tell me if you sense any change. If this turns out to be anything more, Kylo Ren will want to know."

I'd heard the name before. A lot of fear and uncertainty surrounded it, but I had no personal context for it. Sometimes rumors were just rumors. She squeezed my hand and a shiver passed through me.

"I've submitted your case for advancement. I suspect that General Rhidan will be more than willing to approve it with my endorsement."

Advancement. This single word carried with it a world of meaning. Usually for a slave to get approved for advancement, they would need to display an aptitude for more complex work, that they could even be in line for pay. A life. I didn't have the words to express my glee. _Armata is going to hate me,_ I thought. It didn't dampen my enjoyment, but it didn't add to it either.

"Thank you, Sir," I said to her. I bit my lip to quell the urge to kiss her.

"Don't thank me," she said, standing up. "You are human. You deserve to be treated like one."

My thoughts went to the other slaves and I felt a brief pang of guilt. I pushed it aside quickly. It wasn't my fault that I'd managed to find a way out. I was lucky, and I was determined not to waste it with pity.

After our discussion, Phasma needed to cut our visit short. The events of the past week, the changes in command, the reports regarding some of the officers, warranted meetings with the council and First Order Command.

I helped her put on her armor, and she showed me how to access the civilian archives at her console. Once I saw the wealth of information available to me, I knew I would be well occupied until she returned.

As soon as she left, I was mesmerized. I found literature, art, historical data, all compiled by scholars after the fall of the Empire. Before I knew it, I was sucked in.

Phasma returned many hours later, though I almost didn't notice until she spoke just behind me.

"Misen Strass?" she asked, reading the name on the display. I jumped and turned, prepared to stand up. Even though she had given me permission, I still felt as though I'd been caught doing something forbidden. A hand, still clad in the shining armored glove, rested on my shoulder, stopping me. She looked tired, but amused. I turned back to the screen and yawned.

"He was a scientist in the old Empire," I answered, scanning back through the account I'd been reading, one of many stories of individuals alive in the golden age of Emperor Palpatine's rule. "His research into subspace communication was-"

Phasma raised a hand, stopping me.

"I'm afraid I can barely stand, let alone retain new information. It has been a very long day."

I looked toward the open bedroom.

"You should get some sleep, Captain," I said with a smile. She chuckled.

"I suspect I will have little trouble."

She left me alone, and I dimmed the lights.

Hours passed before I realized how tired I was. The text was blurring together and my head was propped up on my arm. I looked over to the closed bedroom door. I thought of the woman sleeping within. I thought of her bed. More importantly, I thought of her bed with her in it. Without further delay, I closed the console and retired.

The room was dark, but not entirely. I could hear the deep, steady breathing of Phasma while she slept and see her shape under her blanket. A thrill of excitement went through me, however dimmed it was by my tiredness. I stripped down to my undergarments and, moving as carefully as I could, crawled into the bed behind her. She rolled over in her sleep and I found myself staring at her sleeping face in the near-total darkness. It was serene.

Suddenly, her eyes popped open, blinked. They searched for a second before finding mine.

"Are you watching me sleep?" she asked. I suddenly became aware of how strange it was that I was doing just that. I rolled onto my back, knitting the cover between my fingers.

"Sorry, Sir."

I heard a short laugh, which turned into a yawn. "I suppose it's only fair." The bed moved as she turned onto her back as well. She stretched and lay her arm over her eyes. "I did the same when you were healing."

My heart beat hard and fast in the dark. I was with Captain Phasma. I was in her bed. No longer drowsy, my mind raced. The rest of me seemed frozen, suspended. In a moment, I heard her breathing deepen. Slowly, ever so slowly, I pushed myself over until I was just barely not touching her. Images of her eyes looking into mine as she worked her hand between my thighs, the memory of the taste of her lips, made it difficult to pretend that this was ordinary.

I was wide awake now. There was nothing for it. I sighed. The sound must have roused her, for Phasma yawned and turned to her side and found me laying right next to her. I thought I saw her smile.

"Is my bed not big enough for you?" she asked.

The semi-darkness gave me courage.

"I keep thinking about you," I said. My voice sounded small. The bed shifted as she propped herself up on her side to look at me. I could almost feel her eyes in the dark.

"I'm flattered."

I let out a breath, unable to dispel the heaviness I felt in my chest. Disappointment. Why couldn't I find the words?

"Sir," I started.

"New rule," she interrupted, stifling another yawn. "Don't call me 'Sir' when you are in bed with me, please."

I laughed, and so did she. She rested her head on her hand and lay there quietly, patient. I realized that she was giving me time to think. I appreciated it.

"Phasma," I began, hesitating for how strange it felt to say her name. "You saved me. Twice. And you've done so much more. I had no idea that there were... people like you. In the Order, or anywhere. I don't know how to thank you." She took this in silence and I swallowed my nerves. She was so close to me. "I want to touch you. I want you to kiss me, as you did before."

I thought I heard her breathing quicken.

"You don't need to thank me, Riala. Not like that. Never like that."

I moved closer to her, reached out and fumbled to find her hand. When I did, I gripped it.

"I don't want this because I owe you. I want this because I want you." My face flushed hot. "If you would have me."

She squeezed my hand and let go, but it was too late. Her touch had caused a sudden flashback of a memory. A single, urgent throb quickened between my legs.

"Cheeky girl," Phasma said. I could hear her smile. A large hand slipped over my hip. Her skin was warm and coarse and I moved into it. I pulled myself close, hips first. The hand on my hip tightened.

She reached over to the table beside the bed. The lights rose to about thirty percent, and then she turned back to me. Her face was like the rising sun, or how I imagined it would be. The light made her skin appear bright and smooth. Her large, stormy grey eyes drank me in, moving over me. I could see now that she was wearing some kind of silken set of sleep clothes. A cool grey. The fabric draped on her body like it was sculpted there. Her hair was brushed to the side, lightly tousled from sleep.

Seeing her eyes, and the way she looked at me, I didn't think. I pushed myself up toward her and touched her lips with mine. She didn't move for a second. And then she pushed herself so that she was poised over me, surrounding me with her arms. Beneath her, I sought to raise myself up, to press my body against hers. Our lips met again, and this time I pulled her down on top of me.

My hands sought to disrobe her. Her hands were more agile. In one smooth movement, she slipped her fingers beneath the fabric of my chest wrap and wrapped them around a breast. Even that slight pressure was enough to distract me from my mission. I moaned upward into her mouth, bit her lip. She brushed a calloused thumb over my nipple and my body involuntarily jerked before she pulled back to look at me. There was no distant curiosity in her eyes, now. All I could see now was hunger.

"You're very pretty," she said in a soft, deep voice. Her hand was still touching my breast. I laughed, but when she slid her thumb back over my nipple, it turned into a moan. "You are."

I suppressed the burgeoning pleasure in my chest at her words, dismissed them as a product of our situation. Instead of responding to her compliment, I let my arms slide down to her shoulders, felt the muscle beneath the fabric of her night clothes. Though shifts were staggered, ensuring that base operations continued without interruption, most were asleep in their quarters. It made for an enjoyable fantasy that we were the only ones awake. The illusion of privacy gave me courage to say the things I might not have in the waking hours.

"I knew I wanted you before I even saw your face," I admitted, smiling when I recalled how her voice had enchanted me. "You are a vision in your armor, you know."

"If you'd like, I can wear the helmet," she said. She leaned in and kissed my neck, smiling against my skin as I laughed.

"Please don't," I said, daring to touch her hair, to tuck a short strand behind her ear. "I might die if I weren't able to see your face."

She moved her head into my palm and sighed, the most divine look of contentment on her face. When she opened her eyes, they were alight with inner fire. The fingers around my bosom tightened, eliciting another plaintive noise from me. The ache between my legs was becoming uncomfortable. I pressed my thighs together to alleviate it, but I knew there would be no relief without contact.

Together we pulled the chest wrap over my head until I was bare. Her mouth took mine once more before kissing my cheek, my jawline. My every nerve was attuned to the trail of her soft lips as they traveled down my throat to my collar bone, only to hover for a moment before closing over my nipple with relish.

I arched my body away from the bed as line of fire coursed through me straight to the center of every nerve in my body between my legs. I moved my hips upward into her, aching for more, begging wordlessly for her to touch me. She taunted me with her eyes and tormented me with her tongue and lips. The way she bent toward me, I could see the shallow valley between her small breasts through the collar of her sleep shirt and my hands gravitated toward her. I touched her strong shoulders, dug my fingers into them, but I could not muster the courage to touch her breasts, even as she mastered mine with the wet, swirling heat of her mouth.

I wanted her skin against mine, I craved the way her touch made me feel alight. A puff of cool air against my nipple forced it to harden and stand up. Her free hand trailed down my sides, to my hips, to my thighs. I writhed as the tight feeling in my belly became urgent.

I opened my thighs beneath her as her hands caressed the outside of them and then crept toward the sensitive inner part. Through the fabric of my undergarment, I felt a feather light brush of her hands against the tender flesh of my vulva, but the effect was powerful; muscles deep inside of me clenched and I heard myself whimper. The tender, swollen lips of my labia reacted as though they'd been electrified. Watching me, she again brushed her fingers along the soft dip between my labia. Dampened, the fabric clung to me and the friction of the threads against my clitoris was enough to make me jerk and strain into her hand. My fingers gripped her shoulders tighter, slid to her back, pulled her weight down onto me as she cupped my vulva.

Her mouth came down upon mine and I tasted her lips, greedy for more, for all of her. At that moment, she slipped her hand beneath the fabric and between my outer labia. She smiled against my mouth when I gasped. Slick with my arousal, her hand began to move forward and back between my delicate folds, the length of her hand touching all of the surfaces there. The fine texture of her fingertips was magnified a hundredfold when they brushed against my engorged clitoris.

It was becoming hard to think. I pulled her tight against me, wanting her body to crush me, but she resisted my embrace. Her cheeks were flushed, and I could hear her short, quick breaths in my ear.

She began kissing my neck. My lower back started to ache as the want became unbearable. I began to feel what I had felt before, a feeling that something was rising beneath me. An immense presence, steady and relentless, frightening and enticing.

my pelvic floor muscles gripped nothing and that was unacceptable. I wanted to feel her inside of me. Her mouth trailed below, to my collar. Between my breasts, my ribs, my stomach. Her tongue darted out to taste me, and everywhere that it did caught the air and became another point of agonizing sensation, overly chill against my burning skin.

I felt the muscles in my lower back tighten and I arched toward her, rutting against her hand as it moved faster. She was merciless and expert in her attention to my clit and everything around it. Her mouth moved lower, and the moment I realized what she was doing, her tongue found the scalding, moist center between my legs.

I cried out, unprepared for the agile lick of her tongue against my oversensitive skin. She sucked the tiny, engorged organ between her lips, running her tongue beneath my clitoral hood and then up the underside in a move that made me throw my hands up and grip the bedcover on either side of my head, elbows in the air.

I pulled the fabric tight in my hands as though they sought to find something steady to hold me.

The strange sensation of waves below me became stronger as my muscles tightened. Her mouth was at turns soft and firm, but never ceasing. She abated for only a moment as she shifted her position, and through slitted lids I could see that while one hand gripped my buttocks, the other had disappeared beneath her. Through the haze of desire, I realized that she was touching herself.

Her mouth laved me from the opening of my clenching hole to my clit and my eyes rolled back in my head as I was lost to the sensation. As my awareness began to shrink down to the thirsty mouth of Captain Phasma, it felt as though everything else dissolved. Beneath us, the power grew. Like an encroaching ocean, I could almost feel waves of power licking at the arches of my feet, against the backs of my thighs straining open until they ached, at the small of my back and up my spine. Heat, prickling and fierce, enveloped me. I welcomed it, even as I felt it threaten to overcome me and eclipse all reason.

I could feel her moaning against me, and I wondered if it were happening again, if she could feel what I felt. I wondered if she felt herself sink toward the vast, tempestuous sea as I did. As I writhed against her, I felt as though I were slipping beneath the waves. The immensity continued to build past the point of tolerance.

And then the pointed tip of her tongue circled the clenched entrance to my hole and then she plunged it into me in rapid-fire bursts. When I cried out, she tensed the muscles of her tongue, broadening it until I felt my muscles strain around her.

There was a spark, and then my awareness was consumed by the light of a supernova as every muscle in my entire body tensed at once.

I heard her cry out, her voice throaty and hoarse, and knew that we were coming together.

The wave receded, leaving pinpricks of light at the edges of my vision and I was left without strength in my limbs. The weight of her head rested against my inner thigh. Then she began to quake. She was laughing, the sound reverberating against me and into me, and I found myself joining her, giddy.

She kissed the inside of one thigh before sliding upwards toward my face. Eagerly, I caught her lips with mine and kissed her deeply, savoring the mingled taste of us both in her mouth. She rolled to her side, an arm guiding me to lay against her, and I did so with pleasure. I could feel her heartbeat as it seemed to shake her entire body. I knew that mine was much the same.

I felt heavy and comfortable, and as I found a perfect place nestled between her upper arm and her body, with my ear against her breast, I felt something I never could have anticipated: possessiveness.

"Exceptional," she sighed as my palm traced lazy figure eights from her ribs to her firm stomach, loving her contours. "Truly."

"You felt it," I stated. "As you did before."

I felt her nod. Her hand absentmindedly stroked my arm. I craned my face to look up at her. Her eyes were distant as she looked at the ceiling. A sudden fear struck me, though dulled by my languor.

"Phasma," I started, still balking at the familiarity of using her name.

"Hmm?" I savored the feel of her voice as it reverberated through me. My head moved with her breaths and I allowed myself the pleasure of closing my eyes and savoring every sensory aspect of this moment.

"Are you going to tell the Commander about this?"

She tilted her head to look down at me, her brows up. Her eyes looked dark against her skin and her arm gripped me tightly against her side.

"Not right now." She looked away again as she thought. "I admit that I wouldn't know how to broach the subject with him. After all, the nature of your… talent is rather delicate. As are our relations."

I grinned and breathed deep, filling my lungs with her scent as the pressure lifted from me.

It was a secret. For now.

For a time, we lay there in comfortable silence. Only when her breathing slowed and deepened did I feel myself following her into blissful sleep.


	6. Pride Makes a Fool of Us All

The remaining time with Phasma went too quickly. It seemed that she never stopped working. With near inhuman endurance, she worked for eleven hours each day and returned in the evening. Sometimes she continued working at the console station in her main room for some time before relaxing with me over hot tea. There were often others present, the small group of slaves and servants that seemed to have earned a special place in her esteem, and in her network. Through their chatter, I, and Phasma, learned of goings on within the base. Word about the Order's change in regulations spread quickly among the slaves; anything that meant we wouldn't have to endure "sparring" was of great interest. It seemed that Phasma and Greta's plan had come to fruition.

The morning of my new assignment, I dressed before Phasma was awake, planting a small kiss on my Captain's cheek before leaving her.

I had no illusions regarding our relationship. She made me feel things I'd never thought I could, but at the same time, I knew that to expect anything more was foolish. She was a Captain, or something more than that, and she had no shortage of responsibilities and obligations. She'd shown me passion and kindness that I had never known, not that I could remember anyway, and I would never forget it.

How could I? I was a _servant_ now. Already I was no longer on the bottom most class level. I was still a slave, by all technicalities, but I had the potential for a future now. This meant that I would no longer be staying with Armata and Dakan. Instead, I would be given new quarters closer to the higher-level service areas. Thinking of my longtime bunk mates, I had to wonder if they even know what had happened to me, if word would get around to them. Would Armata be pleased to see where I was now, or would she be jealous? I could only speculate. If I could avoid it, I would not return to the slave quarter.

When I arrived at the Foreman's office, I tried to keep my face neutral; the last time I'd seen her, she had looked the other way as a cadet pulled me down a side corridor. Though I had no doubt she could have done nothing for me without putting herself in jeopardy, resentment still simmered at her inaction. Still, I respected her as was appropriate.

She was old, and age more than anything was cause for respect among slaves. However, she had managed it, the foreman had lived well into her sixties. Judging by the thin, straight line of her mouth and the pattern of wrinkles and creases around her eyes and lips, her status had been hard fought. She recognized me instantly, despite the lack of a handheld screen to access the database, something the Overseer had relied heavily upon.

"221784-R," she said as a manner of greeting when I stood before her in the small, neatly organized room. I nodded respectfully.

"Ma'am," I said, focusing somewhere around her chin, even though with the disparity in our heights, especially with her seated behind a desk, I had to look quite far down to do so. She deserved some reverence, but she belonged to the Order, the same as I. Her hair, as before, was styled into a single silver-grey braid that draped over one shoulder.

"I see you made it away from the banquet in one piece," she said, referring to the last time we had seen one another. My eyes narrowed before I could stop them.

"I was lucky."

"I'm relieved. You've just been activated and already you are causing waves."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said, standing just a little bit taller.

"You consider that a compliment, do you girl?" I searched her face, but found no insult there. "It's often safer to remain unsee, girl. You know as well as that that to rise too quickly may attract the wrong attention."

I took her words into consideration. She was right, and I knew it, but at the same time, I felt that I had already paid for my mistakes, and for attracting the wrong attention. Despite Phasma's tender attentions and advanced medical treatment I'd received, I could still feel a residual soreness in my ribs and neck.

"Is that what happened to Overseer Swaile?"

She looked at my face for a long time, but I didn't flinch.

"If you are not careful, it is your mouth that will bring you misfortune, not your position. I have given you my warning. Whether you choose to heed it is not my concern."

What had gotten into me? Speaking negatively aloud about a ranking official, even a disgraced one was well past acceptable.

She turned to the shelf behind her and retrieved the datapad that had been sitting there unused until now. On the screen, I saw a long list. Though I couldn't glean any more information from where I stood, I was acutely curious about the meaning behind her ominous words. I waited patiently as she scanned the text, and then she looked up to me, meeting my eyes with her milky pale blue ones.

"More staff is needed in the officers' active training facilities. I assume you can handle the duties associated with that station."

I looked at her dubiously, trying to understand the strange tone of her voice. Compared to the things I'd been ordered to do before, it would be a vacation.

"Yes ma'am."

She was studying me carefully, and I had the distinct sense that there was something more she wasn't telling me.

"Get moving before you miss the start of your shift," she said, dismissing me with a wave.

My mind worked to discern what it could be. The officers' active training facilities was a gymnasium complex which kept ranking officers separate from the soldiers for off-duty physical training or recreation. From what I understood, many high-ranking officials attended when off duty. I would potentially be in the presence of commanders and generals. As clever and calculating as Phasma had shown herself to be, I suspected that this post being given to me was no coincidence even if she had not spoken to me about it explicitly. It would put me in the perfect position to listen and perhaps even provide intel to Captain Phasma. My worries began to subside as I realized that this was probably it. If I could continue helping her, I would do so gladly.

I rushed to the quartermaster. There was no line this time and I was handed a small folded stack of soft clothing. With only a single, bored female guard standing watch, I dressed myself in a long, belted tunic the color of red sand and with grey leggings. My arms were bare, and the material the tunic was made of was light and allowed good air flow and movement. I left as quickly as I could, excited to begin.

In that part of the base, I kept my eyes as low as I could without running into anyone or anything. I had some distance to walk and to pass the time, I played a little game with myself to try and identify the rank and function of the people I passed based solely on the kind of shoes and pants they wore. Of course, without seeing the rank insignia typically worn on their jackets, I couldn't confirm, so the game wasn't very fun or interesting. Periodically I stopped to check my position on the directories located at every major intersection.

Finally, I made the last turn onto a corridor with multiple double doors leading to the officers' facilities, and I couldn't help but be somewhat nervous as I heard the activity within. I passed the entrances to the spas, lounge, and the gym proper and continued to a small, unremarkable door at the very end of the hall. It led me to the servant entrance and stock room.

The servant access rooms were unadorned and utilitarian, but very clean. I passed through a moderately sized laundry where a few slaves and servants worked, keeping the flow of laundry moving and taking away clean towels. I passed through a room lined in rows upon rows of ceiling-height shelving containing folded towels, robes, soaps and oils, salves, slippers, and every other thing I could imagine. Droids retrieved items from the topmost shelves and gave them to servants dressed like me, who immediately left with their items.

The taskmaster, an incredibly busy man with a datapad, was surrounded by busy workers falling over themselves to quickly to do whatever he told them. From what it sounded like, he was doing at least four jobs at once. He barely glanced up at me, though I saw him look at his datapad and mouth my designation number silently.

"You're late," he said, piercing me with his green eyes. Indignant, I opened my mouth to respectfully defend myself, but he barreled on, silencing my words before they formed. "Go now to the towel stand on the upper level and relieve the girl there. She's been at it all night."

He turned away from me to order another slave to clean the drains in one of the sauna rooms, and I decided it was in my best interest to do as he ordered before I was given a less enjoyable task. I left the room on the opposite side from where I'd entered, and, after climbing a set of stairs, busy servants bustling to and from, all in a hurry, I stepped out of the servant access and into an entirely different world.

My first impression was that of simple, elegant luxury. The stairwell opened into a broad hallway lit with diffuse, warm lighting. The floor was carpeted, and while part of my uniform for this duty were a pair of soft shoes, I imagined that sinking my bare toes into the thick, soft material would have been quite pleasant. The colors here were bright and soothing, like those of Captain Phasma's quarters. In a place with no access to real sunlight, I felt as if the illumination over the strips of crown molding lining the length of the hall brought the illusion of natural daylight into this place.

I smelled sweat mingled with the scent of herbal salves and a pleasantly musky perfume, and I could clearly hear conversation and music beyond that of the atmospheric scrubbers, as well as the sounds of general activity. To my left, the hall continued, lined with doorways. Some of the rooms appeared to be in use and others were empty. Past them was what appeared to be a lounge area and the saunas. I could see low leather couches within.

To my right, the wall at my back opened onto a balcony which overlooked the lower levels. The wall I faced stretched past, with more doorways leading into more spaces, and a sharp turn leading down, I assumed, another hallway. This place was huge. I was stunned for a moment, and not entirely sure where to go.

Another servant approached, and I looked up to see a very serious and tired-looking young white woman.

"Towel post?" she asked. I nodded, and she jerked her thumb behind her. "Around the corner outside of the lift."

This must have been the one I was told to relieve. I nodded my thanks and, eyes down on the deep carpet, followed her direction to my post. Along the way, I stole a glance over the balcony railing to see the rest of the facilities, and I was met with the sight of a space dotted with officers in various exercise dress. I could see no indication of rank, and all seemed informal as they chatted or ran on treadmills in the area on the far-left wall. I dared not risk a longer look. Here was not the place for boldness.

My post was a small alcove and partial desk, stacks of clean towels neatly resting on shelves. A chute was built into the wall that I could assume was meant for dirty laundry. I stepped behind the desk and almost immediately, another servant, a young dark-skinned man, swept up to me with a pile of sweaty, dirty towels, and deposited them into the laundry chute before hurrying away, I assumed, to gather more.

A few pairs of officers walked by, talking to one another. I froze, my eyes on my toes, as they passed. The lift across from me opened and two officers stepped out, women, and approached. Nervousness climbed into my throat, but they didn't even break their conversation as they gestured to me and, comprehending that I only served one function at this post, I handed them each a large, folded towel with a small formal bow. They didn't seem to care or notice and walked away. Was this my job? To stand here all day and provide towels? I let out a long sigh when I was sure I was alone. The servant came back with more laundry, and I watched blandly as it disappeared down the chute and he hurried off to gather more with nary a word in my direction.

Behind the counter was a small, limited access console. Here, orders could be submitted as well as reservation requests. I could see which rooms were reserved and which were free, as well as what supplies were needed in each. Occasionally, servants would come from the stairwell with a basket of things, towels or robes, things like that, and either carry them to their appointed destination, or left them there for us. My companion, who hadn't so much as spoken a word to me yet, handled this.

The next few hours continued in much the same manner. I stood there dumbly performing duties fit for a droid, eyes down when officers walked by. When they approached me, I gave them towels, offering a slight bow each time. Occasionally, the other would bring more laundry. I would have liked some conversation when no officers were in sight. It was boring and tedious, and while I knew I was incredibly lucky to be given such a post, I hated how useless I felt. Knowing that Phasma had used her influence to get me here, I felt ashamed for my restlessness, but I could not deny it. If I'd been assigned to assist the masseuse, or the spa, I might have been provided a chance to overhear something interesting.

Once, I temporarily left my post, leaving the young man in charge while I used the restroom facilities in the servant's section, and while I savored the change in scenery, it was too brief a reprieve from the tedium of towel duty.

On the way, I did manage to get a better glimpse of the rooms built along the hallway leading to the servant access stairwell, though. The floor I was on seemed to be meant for specialized exercise, martial arts and small groups of officers performing synchronized drills and sparring with one another. Some of the rooms were empty, but most were occupied by at least two.

At first, I eavesdropped on the conversations that I could hear, hoping to be entertained by whatever gossip the highest-ranking First Order officials had to share, but I heard nothing of interest; a lot of technical jargon and military speak that I couldn't even remember if I tried, certainly nothing that Phasma would find relevant.

When I returned to the post, the young man, apparently agitated for how long it took me, told me to gather more dirty towels from the rooms past the lift before busying himself at the console. Eager for change, I quickly complied and, trying to make myself as small and unnoticeable as I could, I slipped into the doorways to collect the discarded laundry left by the doorways. There was a surprising amount to do, and I welcomed the distraction from my busy thoughts. My shift companion seemed to appreciate the break, for he said nothing to me as I continued performing his duties.

As I continued, picking up the empty rooms while a sweeper droid cleaned the floors, I became aware of the room at the far end of the hall. On the console, the room had been marked as reserved for the last two hours with a DND (Do Not Disturb) notation.

I might not have noticed anything if the door to that room hadn't been left wide open, but it was. A flash of peripheral vision revealed to me that, unlike every other room on this hall, the man inside sparred alone. This alone wasn't so strange, but I made sure to take special care with the rooms around him.

My eyes remained down as I passed, but I could clearly hear the activity within. He was striking a punching bag. Small huffs of air were the only sound he made. There was something intriguing about the sound; it was controlled, measured. Disciplined.

The third time I passed his open doorway, I dared to let my eyes flicker to him; boredom was making me stupid.

My intention was for the look to be brief. But when I saw that his back was turned, and at the wrong angle to see me in the mirrored back wall, I found my eyes lingering longer than I meant for them to.

In an instant, I was transfixed. A slender, pale back dusted with light freckles was bare from the waist up and shined with sweat as he moved. The line of his spine drew my eyes upward to the back of his head to his red hair. Even damp with sweat as it was, it was trimmed neatly.

Legs clad in a pair of wide-legged black pants moved with care, side stepping to adjust his balance before kicking out and striking the punching bag. I could tell by his motions that he was not in an active combat position; his strikes were practiced and nearly without flaw, but he moved as though he needed to think before every action.

To my eyes, the more I watched, the more I wanted to see. His body was slender, but I could see the muscles of his upper body flexing beneath his pale. A measured, effective kick sent the bag swinging wildly away from him and my breath caught in my throat as an involuntary desire to see what else he could do forced itself into my thoughts. I looked down, my face burning, as I carried the fabric that I held back to the station and deposited it into the chute. What had gotten into me? Before Phasma, I'd never lusted for any officers. In fact, my position had bred a very decided dislike of anyone in a position of power unless they showed some semblance of humanity toward their lessers.

The other servant didn't even look at me when he thrust a pair of folded towels into my arms and pointed me back down the hall. I needed to supply the now clean rooms with fresh towels for the next occupants. I used the chance to pass the red-haired officer's doorway again, knowing that my compulsion was now bordering on self-destructive.

When I saw him again, he was taking a pause and his back was still to me. As he ran a hand back through his hair, breathing hard, I realized that I could almost make out his face in the mirror, and I dared to study it while his eyes were down. He appeared to be in his thirties, his features, in a state of concentration, were handsome in a severe way. Currently flushed from exertion, he was captivating. I could see in the bone structure of his cheeks that he likely came from an affluent family; looks like his could only come from good breeding. Then he was moving again, and I ducked back behind the doorframe when his head rose.

I risked one more surreptitious peek before I made myself abandon this fixation immediately.

Another high kick sent the bag careening away from him only to come back and slam densely into his waiting fist, though the force of it seemed to jar his body. He stepped back, shaking his arm out and bent down to grab the towel on the floor. The moment he stood up straight again, with the towel wrapped around his neck, he glanced up into the mirror. At the same moment, I realized that my image reflected me as clear as day, peering around the doorframe.

He turned suddenly to face me. Our eyes locked, this time directly, and the sudden spike of terror when I met his stare was like a blaster bolt to my brain.

I dropped my gaze, and hurried away down the hall with the last load of laundry, my mind in a blind panic. I felt faint. I was an idiot. Clearly he was someone important, someone high-ranking enough to deserve his own practice space. And he had seen me, without a doubt, breaking protocol to gawk at him.

The young servant seemed not to notice that anything was wrong, though as I resumed my post, I could feel the adrenaline flooding my body. It was making me tremble as I handed two more towels out to a pair of waiting officers. I gave them a formal bow, studying very closely the toes of my shoes, and they went on their way. The hallway emptied again, as It did periodically, and I allowed myself a moment to gather myself and breathe.

First day, I thought to myself. The first day, and I've already screwed up so monumentally. I might have invited the very attention that I did not want. Or, if I were lucky, the male officer would think no more of it.

Anger at myself mingled with the adrenaline-spiked panic into a roiling tempest in my gut. I heard another officer approach, so I fixed my outward appearance to its customary blankness, and readied a fresh towel.

An officer, singular. I glanced at the console screen to confirm that the room at the end of the hall was now empty. My blood ran cold. I knew who it was without looking up, the wide-legged black pants, the measured, meticulous steps. Even the smell of his sweat was somehow clean on him.

I didn't breathe as he stood there in front of me, I only remained bowed, a clean, soft towel held out before me. I could see his bare feet showing beneath the legs of the pants the nails well-manicured. The silence stretched into eternity, it seemed, as I held my awkward half-bow past the point of comfort. My abdominal muscles were starting to cramp.

A hand came into my field of view. The fingers were long, graceful, and the nails were neat and clean as they gripped the towel I offered, his movements unhurried. Somehow I knew he was looking at me very closely. I became very conscious of the slave designation engraved on the front of my ID clip. A bead of sweat formed on my brow and I willed it to stay in place until he left. The last thing I needed was to soil his towel with my sweat.

Finally, he jerked the towel out of my arms and walked off toward the lounge area past the servant stairwell. I didn't breathe until he was gone. Only then did I fill my oxygen-deprived lungs with air, sucking it through clenched teeth. I only now noticed how my jaw ached, how my hands, cold from lack of blood flow, quaked.

"Do you know who that was?" A voice made me jump and I glanced up to see the young male servant. He was staring after the man. His black hair was twisted into the customary braids, his comm clamp engraved just like mine was.

"No," I replied, my voice cutting more sharply than I meant.

"That was Lieutenant General Hux. He was looking right at you."

Every ounce of blood in my face drained away with such incredible alacrity that my vision swam. I felt the floor sway slightly and gripped the edge of the half desk in front of me to keep from collapsing. My eyes were now wide as I looked up at the young man's face. He seemed to take relish in my reaction, unaware, I assumed, of what had transpired between myself and the man in question. He glanced down the hallway to the corner around which Hux had disappeared.

"Maybe he likes you," he said with a grin.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked when I finally had the breath. Cold shivers coursed through me. Feverish thoughts, _rapist, cannibal,_ screamed in my head.

"Sometimes he has slaves sent to his quarters. Sometimes they don't come back. I think that's why you're here, to replace the last one." I barely heard the words he said, but their meaning was not lost on me, and they added to the maelstrom of thoughts that spun wildly in my head. My vision was still swimming, and the hallway suddenly felt too bright.

I had looked upon the face of the dreaded Lieutenant General Hux, had practically gawked at him while he exercised, and he had seen me. Of all the officers I could have shown disrespect toward, of all the times I could have chosen to break protocol to indulge in inappropriate thoughts, it had to be now, and it had to be him.

My fists were clenched so hard that it cut off the blood flow, and my nails dug into my palm sharply.

"Hey, what's your problem?" the young man asked, looking at me closely. "You look sick."

The moment he said the word 'sick,' I felt the shivers spread as hot nausea bubble upwards, and I almost didn't have time to open the laundry chute in time before I vomited my breakfast into it to join the towels below. I caught my breath. Then I grabbed a clean towel and wiped my face.

"I was only teasing," the young man muttered with disgust before walking off. Teasing or not, he had been speaking truth. I couldn't see around the fact that I had just stared death in the face, and death had looked back at me.

I steadied my breathing and threw the towel I had just used down the chute, hoping it would clear up some of my mess along the way.

The rest of my shift was spent gripped by worry that Hux would come back. If nothing else, all boredom and tedium forgotten in thoughts wrought with tension. I kept expecting to see those feet and black pants come back, to be punished, reprimanded, or even perhaps killed on the spot, a blaster shot to the head for my show of disrespect. But the Lieutenant General never returned, and my shift ended without so much as a word from the taskmaster or anyone else.

I considered that, despite everything I'd heard about him, and despite everything the other servant had said, nothing might happen at all. No one mentioned the incident, and I was dismissed.

As part of my elevated station, I was given new quarters much closer to this part of the base than my old ones within the Service quarters. Much like my old situation, I would be sharing a bunk room with at least three other servants. As I approached that section, I could see a large shared shower room, better than what was given to regular slaves, a separate mess hall, and even a small common room where newscasts were broadcast on large screens. The sight, even in passing, of Lieutenant General Hux's face on one of those screens was enough to revive my panic. I didn't linger, and chose instead to go straight to my bunk.

Two other female servants were within. One slept with her back to me while the other prepared for her shift at the small mirror in the bunk room. A slight nod was all she gave me before leaving. I wasted no time, stripping off my sweaty clothes and taking the generic daywear from the locker before heading toward the showers.

I looked no one in the eye and picked an empty stall. The scanner read my ID clamp and the water kicked on. Without waiting, I rested my forehead on the wall and let the warm water wash over my hair.

I would have to re-do my braids, but I didn't care; every inch of me was chilled and clammy and I needed to feel clean.

Hours of sustained fear had made my entire body tense. I was grateful for how my aching muscles were soothed by the flow of hot water. On autopilot, I washed every part of myself carefully before the shower timer ran out, and the air dryers built into the miniscule shower capsule's walls activated, blasting away the dampness and further ensuring that my braids would be disheveled beyond the point of saving.

My imagination aside, I had to remind myself that all that had happened so far was that he'd seen me look at him, and he'd looked at me in return. So far, there had been no other repercussion. I couldn't begin to dissect the man's mind, so fretting about what he was thinking was pointless. And until I had further information, I needed to separate the rumors from the man in question for the sake of my own sanity. It was not a satisfying conclusion, but it would have to be enough.

I stepped out of the shower, and dressed myself. I felt physically better, but my thoughts were still troubled. What if word of my boldness reached Phasma? I could almost imagine her disappointment. Perhaps if nothing came of this, she would simply decide I was more trouble than I was worth. I could easily lose my new position and be sent to the lowest levels to slosh through sewage, managing waste disposal; a job with a high mortality rate as even the smallest cut could end up becoming infected within short order. I couldn't think that Phasma was capable of retaliation, though. She had been nothing but compassionate to me thus far, and it would be doing her a disservice to think of her any other way.

As I re-entered my quarters and attended to my nighttime routine, my thoughts wandered to the incident that had started all of this. Phasma had made multiple comments on the nature of my eyes. Had Hux noticed? I suspected, what Phasma noticed was an extension of my Gaze more than any physical trait. No one else had said anything about my eyes. Indeed, few dared to even see them for fear of my ability to hurt them with my will. But what if I had chosen that moment, the moment when Hux and my eyes locked, to influence him? Would he have been driven into a rage as the Stormtrooper cadet had? Or would he have been bewitched as Phasma might have been? The thought made be uncomfortable.

Something had certainly happened in her bed. Something that couldn't be explained away as a desperate imagining of a sad slave girl. But if the extent of my Force ability, if that's what it even was, ended within the bedroom, what good was it? I couldn't imagine a situation where I would be comfortable using it to my advantage. Nausea-inducing thoughts of sexual slavery and submitting to the will of those in positions of influence made me curl in on myself. My sex with Phasma had been my choice, and any sex in my future would also be my choice.

My bunkmate, the girl sleeping below me, began to snore. I was restless and stressed, and thoughts of being in bed with Phasma made me remember the more pleasant things of our most recent time together. Stress gave way to a more pleasant sort of tension, so I managed my needs to make it easier to sleep.


	7. The Precipice, Part One

Despite my efforts, my sleep was fitful and tiring. For the first time in over a week, my recurring nightmares returned, but as usual I could not remember the details after waking beyond the memory of the scent of smoke. I woke early to hear my bunkmates moving about. I waited until they left before getting out of bed. I needed some time alone to prepare myself for the day's duties.

I went about my routine as usual, using the extra time to fix my hair. I could see that we were provided hair oil for general use and I gratefully utilized it; the shower had dried my locks and made them frizzy and brittle. Carefully, I arranged my hair in a style I'd seen other servants wear: with a single, thick braided ridge atop my head split into three braided buns. As usual, I left two small plaits to rest in front on which I could attach my ID clamp. It was to be visible always.

My morning progressed without incident, and the rest of my shift passed with nothing happening of note aside from, finally, learning the name of the young man who seemed to share my schedule, Kaden. I also learned that he was somewhat simple-minded. His comments about the Lieutenant General were made in ignorance, not malice, though their effect had been the same. It didn't make me like him any more, but it did call for more patience.

The day ended, and the previous one's anxieties began to fade. Perhaps I'd been overly rash in my fears. I decided to join the other servants in the mess hall, even though I did not end up speaking to anyone. I ate alone, and I didn't mind.

This time, when the previously-recorded image of Hux appeared on screen during the newscast, I was not afraid. Indeed, I made myself look at him as he gave a short speech on the continuing efforts of the First Order to bring law to a lawless galaxy. I studied his speech, his patterns of movement and expression. He was unusually young for someone of his rank and undeniably handsome, but there was a quality to his eyes, cold blue in the light of the broadcast holo-imagers, that was disconcerting to me.

That night, I slept more easily.

The rest of the week passed in much the same manner. I woke, dressed, and returned to the gym facilities each day, performing my job with perfection before leaving at the end of my shift. The Lieutenant General did not return to my floor, and it was my hope that I wouldn't be seeing him again. Though I didn't encourage it, Kaden showed his tendency to talk any time we were alone. I made sure to leave the desk, and his company, at every opportunity. I learned the names of my bunkmates, though I had no intention of befriending any of them, and they seemed to feel the same way about me. Things were, overall, going well.

On the morning of the last day of the week, I arrived early. My first week of service in this capacity would be assessed and my future assignments would be considered. Either I would continue this post, or I would be given another. Even though I thought I'd jeopardized everything on the first day, I didn't want to leave this post if I could avoid it; it was easy, and, apart from things of my own doing, safe. Given enough time, I could even advance enough to find myself in a position where I might be able to provide Phasma with useful intel.

The first half of the day progressed as usual. I cleaned the rooms and prepared them for the next guests, or provided extra towels to any that requested them. I came close to telling Kaden to shut up, but held my tongue and did not use my Gaze, a feat of will that I took some pride in considering how he was testing my patience and my desire for solitude.

But right around the middle of my shift, something strange began to make itself known at the edge of my awareness. I had not accessed my Gaze, or anything else related to the Force, the entire week. But even so, a faint prickling sensation began to rise in the air around me. I could feel it on the skin of my face and scalp, and soon it spread to my neck. It was not dissimilar to the sensation I'd felt before when using my Gaze, but it was different in that it was originating outside of myself.

It was directional, and when I followed it, I found myself facing the turbolift. As the seconds ticked by, the sensation only grew, and my nerves grew with it. I forced my eyes to stay down, to continue my job, and I tried to ignore it in the hope that it would pass.

Muffled conversation between two male voices could be heard long before the lift doors opened. When they did, I found myself inexplicably paralyzed with fear as the sensation only intensified.

" **Your eagerness to impress Supreme Leader is amusing** ," the voice said. The vocoder-filtered timbre was unlike any other I'd heard through soldier helmets. It was at once coarse and smooth, like liquid gravel. I knew that the one speaking was the presence I'd felt. " **See that you don't disappoint him when the time comes to prove your claims**."

"Your concern is noted," the other voice replied. It was Hux. My mouth felt dry, and I realized I was trembling. I stood there, stock still behind the half-desk.

" **I hope so, Lieutenant General** …" the voice responded before trailing off.

I had a very sudden and painful awareness of my own presence. Time seemed to stop. I felt the pricking of needles on my face and scalp sharpen. It felt as though they were sinking into me. My breath caught in my throat and I struggled to maintain my steady composure.

" **We will continue this discussion later**."

"Yes. We will," Hux said, his timbre too careful, too measured, too precise to belong to any other. At the moment, I could almost sense an undertone of rage. The discomfort of the other man's presence began to recede when he stepped back into the turbolift until it was gone.

"You," he said.

He was talking to me. I felt faint again.

"Sir?" my voice was a squeak.

"Is my room prepared?"

My mind raced, my heart was in my throat, and then I remembered to look at the screen.

"Yes, Sir."

He said nothing more before stalking off, the sound of boots clipping against the floor unmuffled despite the carpet.

When he was gone, I felt as if the air returned to the corridor. I didn't understand what had been said between Hux and that other person, but I could sense the controlled tension between them, apparent in their tones. I heard Kaden, who until this moment had been suspiciously absent, approaching. Once I was sure that we were alone, I leaned weakly against the wall.

"You look like you're going to be sick again," he said. I peered at him through narrowed eyes, but he was looking toward the turbolift.

"I can't believe Kylo Ren came here. He never comes here," he said, his voice awash with irritating wonderment. Kylo Ren, the Commander. "Did you get a look at him?'

"Shut _up_." The words ground out of my mouth at the same moment that I felt my eyes itch with an extra burst of anger.

He balked in response, and then without further delay, hurried off. It seemed that he had suddenly found a task elsewhere that needed to be taken care of, and I watched him leave with some minor satisfaction. The back of my eyeballs prickled briefly but then receded. I knew that I should not have risked using my Gaze, but I'd lost patience with the servant and his stupidity.

I steadied my breaths until I felt that I could stand again.

My mind worked as I performed my duties automatically. That strange sensation I'd felt, like thousands of needles were lightly pricking my face and scalp, the one that I could not deny was so like the way I'd felt using my Gaze on others, was that the Force? I'd heard that the Commander was gifted with it, though I didn't understand what that meant exactly.

The loud thuds and smacks I could hear emanating from the room at the end of the hall, the same one that Hux had occupied yesterday, drew me out of my musings. He was angry, and even so, I could imagine that he executed his strikes with steady control. That frightened me more than anything else. I tried to tune him out and maintain my outward composure, but I couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be the target of that steady aggression. And those eyes.

My shift ended some time after Hux left. I took it as good fortune that he said nothing further to me. I did not waste any time heading back toward the service stairwell.

The moment I opened the door, however, I was met with the sight of two Stormtroopers.

"That's her, 221784-R," one of them, female, said. My heart skipped a beat. Then, to me, she said, "come with us."

I obeyed without hesitation. Inside, I was in a screaming panic. They took me back through the service entrance. I was vaguely aware of the stares as I passed, but I was too preoccupied to care.

They led me through the corridors. After a few turns, I dared to speak.

"Where are you taking me?"

The white helmet beside me barely spared me a glance.

"Lieutenant General Hux's quarters."

When my feet stumbled, I felt a hand on my arm, but it was not kind, and once I was steady, it didn't let go, as though they thought I might try to run. If not for that hand, I might have.

I felt disconnected, somehow outside of myself as I passed through the section of the base leading to the officers' quarters.

Respond with perfect obedience. It was the only way I might survive. Of course, I could do nothing else but obey. Every unsavory thing I'd ever heard about him ran around in my mind, making it unable to think about anything else. Some said that he liked to practice torture and interrogation techniques on slaves. Others related to the most extreme rumors, that he somehow managed to nurse a preference for the taste of human flesh.

As for the rumor that he was a rapist… slaves knew their place. Things happened. If the perpetrators were caught, they were punished and the matter closed. If they weren't, there was not much that could be done. Raping a slave was in the same league as taking liberties with one's livestock: deplorable, but victimless. To think that an officer so high in the organization engaged in such behavior without any to stop him was something I didn't want to think about. Of course, it was too late.

My stomach roiled as nausea came in clammy, hot waves. I could see no way out, could think of nothing beyond reacting in such a way that I would be executed. All too soon, my escort and I arrived at our destination. The guards posted at the door nodded a greeting to the ones with me, and when the door opened, my escort left. I had no doubt that the ones standing there now would show me no more compassion than the others.

Immediately upon stepping through the door, my eyes searched the room for any sign of Hux. The space was empty. It appeared that I was alone. The door closed behind me.

I allowed myself a moment to take in my surroundings. It was laid out much like Phasma's quarters. The immediate room appeared to be the main living space. Straight ahead, a doorway led to another room beyond. Through the door, I could see the front corner of a bed and the entrance to a personal washroom. I was surprised to see that Hux's space was no larger than the Captain's.

To the left was a dedicated sitting area with a couch and a chair in plush black leather. Between that and the back wall of the room was a large desk with inbuilt access terminal and a large executive style desk chair. When I looked to the space to my right, all illusion that this could have been anyone else's quarters dissolved entirely.

The wall was lined in all manner of mounted weapons. Poles with spikes and hooks, handheld claw weapons, blades as thin as a small finger that ended in razor sharp points, and all manner of blunt weapons. All melee weapons, many whose function was clearly meant to maim, to cause pain, rather than to kill quickly. lights in the ceiling above the display cast beams that glinted off sharp edges and carved stark shadows. The collection almost had a museum quality to it; each item was arranged lovingly to display it to its maximum effect, and while I knew nothing of alien cultures, I could tell that not all the weapons were of human design and origin.

He was a weapon's enthusiast, serious one as it would seem. This was a fact that did nothing to alleviate my nerves. But as I looked to the floor beneath the weapons, chill dread gripped my heart and tightened.

It was bare but for a plastifilm sheet roughly twelve feet by eight feet, which was adhered to the corners of floor and wall. Overall, it consumed half of the floor space in this room, and I did not miss the fact that the sitting area faced it. Almost as though it were a stage.

I heard a noise then, and I looked up, panic bringing my pulse to my throat, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

I was _not_ alone, of course. Lieutenant General Hux stood there in the open doorway leading to the back of his quarters. I hadn't seen him because he'd been in his room. I immediately snapped my eyes to his black shining boots and the solid black uniform pants tucked into them. I'd seen enough to see that he was holding something in each hand, two identical black objects.

I followed his feet as they moved across the floor to the sitting area. He seemed utterly unconcerned with my presence.

I heard leather cushions compressing as he took a seat. I stood stock still, eyes down. All my attention was devoted to keeping my breathing steady as the silence stretched. My fear was making me hypersensitive to every small sound of rustling fabric and the creaking leather of his boots. I was sure that my entire body quaked with each forceful beat of my heart.

What was he waiting for?

The door to the chambers opened behind me with a silky whisper. Light footsteps padded the ground, approached me from behind until the person stood next to me. From my peripheral vision, I could tell that the figure was slight. Female, shorter and thinner than me. I fixed my eyes on the floor in front of me, painfully conscious of the man that sat on the couch. I was sure that he was looking at us now.

Suddenly, he was standing. Boots squeaked, and he crossed the room so that he stood in the center of the plastifilm sheet. My hand was trembling now overtly, and I could do nothing to control it. Then, there was movement and two heavy clanks as two weighty objects dropped to the sheet. I recognized them immediately, as I had just been made to wear one not so long ago. Shock collars. I could see from where I stood that black metal implements were currently unlocked, the hinges open.

From the outside, they appeared plain, merely wide bands of black metal. I knew from experience however, that the inner surface featured a row of tiny, thorn-like spikes along the circumference. These spikes were meant to prick the skin so that they might more directly deliver their intended electric shock. My eyes narrowed as I remembered the last time I'd had to wear one. I'd been insolent, I couldn't deny it. But this time? My only crime was looking. A shock collar seemed like an extreme measure of punishment. Then again, I couldn't be sure of his motives for the evening.

Hux stood there for a long, agonizing moment while I and the other girl stared at them. He returned to the sitting area. I heard the couch cushion compress as he sat down again. Neither me nor the other girl moved. I could hear her breathing, though, short and fast.

"I suppose we should begin," he said. His tone was light, lilting. His boots were splayed out casually. He was entirely calm, completely at ease. His relaxed manner only made his next words that much more chilling. "Put them on."

I couldn't stop myself. My face turned to the girl next to me, and our eyes met with the same question: was he simply going to shock us? I was struck by how thin she looked, how young. She was quaking harder than I was. But still, conditioning superseded any fear-paralysis, and she silently crept over so that she stood before one of the collars.

She bent forward, fingers hesitating before they grasped it. The metal joint clinked heavily as it was lifted from the floor. Her hollow eyes stared at it as she straightened out, and then, obediently, she moved to close it around her neck. She winced when the band auto-adjusted and the clasp locked into place.

I followed behind her, my movements mechanical and rigid. Inside, I trembled, though at this moment, it was more from the indignity of being collared like an animal than from fear. I felt the first stirrings of my anger and I welcomed it, as little good as it would do me now.

The surface of the film crinkled as I stepped on it.

I brought the collar to rest around my neck and clamped it shut with bloodless fingers. The interior spikes pressed shallowly into the sensitive skin of my neck and throat. I had to hold my head high to avoid additional discomfort. Now the collars could only be removed by the appropriate command key, and I was sure I knew who possessed it.

Unable to cast my face down as was customary due to the awkward position of my neck, I stared straight ahead and forced my eyes down as far as I could make them. I swallowed hard, and that small movement caused one of the spikes to dig painfully into my skin. Satisfied that we had followed his orders, he stood to his feet with ease.

"142330-K and 221784-R," he began, addressing us both. I could hear my companion's heavy, tremulous breathing. "You are here because I have granted you both a unique opportunity. A chance to prove yourselves worthy of service to the First Order."

My stomach churned, and still I looked at the floor as he continued.

"The Supreme Leader is always in search of those that might further his cause. He knows that sometimes, such talent can come from lowly origins. And as such, I have taken it upon myself to bolster the ranks where it is needed the most."

My brow furrowed in confusion. What was this? I dared to steal a glance and alleviate the soreness in my eyes from peering down from such an angle. Piercing eyes like chips of blue glass met mine. Instead of immediately looking away, I found myself continuing to stare. His eyes narrowed, but he seemed otherwise unperturbed. He looked to the other girl.

"142330-K," he said again with the threat of a smile in the corners of his mouth. The girl swallowed, and I heard the nearly inaudible whimper of pain as the spikes dug in. "You continue to show a lack of aptitude with any task you are assigned. For anyone else, this would warrant reassignment to the mines. A death sentence for those lacking in fortitude."

He looked at me, then, meeting my eyes again.

"And you. I've made sure to examine _your_ record very closely."

My face burned, but I didn't look away. I made myself look at his hateful, arrogant face. Now I didn't care about the repercussions. Whatever his intentions were, I could tell that they were far from pure, or official, and I was sure that nothing I did now would matter in the outcome.

"Even now you show a lack of respect for your superiors. Others might attribute this to inexperience. I suspect that no amount of continued training will cure you of it."

Words came to mind, words which I dared not speak, even now. For a long moment, he held my eyes, and to my shame, I was the one that broke the stare first. How had I ever thought him handsome? Anger and indignation whirled together with the fear inside of me until it was all I could feel.

I could hear 142330-K's teeth chattering as he began to pace slowly in front of us. It set the hairs on the back of my neck on edge.

"Luckily, I can find a use for nearly anyone, even you two." He stopped again in front of us. "The First Order has need of additional combat personnel. Not in the regular regiments, mind you. You are far too old to begin the training required. No, we need to build up our reserve corps."

He moved back toward the seating area. Combat training? This leagues away from what I'd been expecting. I couldn't believe it. But then, nothing about this made any sense. What was the point of the shock collars? And why the clandestine meeting in his chamber? As if sensing my confusion, he spoke, now with enjoyment.

"But we only need _one_ of you. One of you will be granted a full reprieve for your transgressions."

One of us. My blood ran cold, and instantly the other slave girl and I looked at each other. I looked at Hux. Beneath the stark lighting over the seating area, long shadows stretched beneath his eyes and cheekbones. Still, the shine of light on his eyes made them glint in the shadow. I felt nothing from him but cold satisfaction as his intentions became plain.

"You may use any weapon you choose. If you think yourself clever, be warned that a single shock at maximum setting is fatal." He held up a small device in his hand. "Any questions?"

To my surprise, the other girl spoke up first. Her voice was as small and timid as I expected.

"Sir, please, I don't understand," she stuttered. Hux did not smile, but I heard him laugh.

"I thought it was clear," he said, his eyes growing cold. "You are to fight to the death. The victor can expect an improvement in her situation. The loser will be disposed of with the rest of the trash."

The girl seemed to have lost the ability to speak. When she looked at me again, her hollow eyes were wide, frightened. Desperate.

Hux lowered himself easily onto the couch.

"You may begin."


	8. The Precipice, Part Two

"You can't do this." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. For a moment, his relaxed demeanor drew thin with the sharpness of his expression. The girl next to me stared at me in disbelief. I was too desperate for a way out of this to stop now. "There are regulations now regarding the abuse of slaves."

He uttered a small, voiceless noise of derision. When he leaned forward, I felt the weight and intensity of his eyes on me as though they were search lights.

I caught a glimpse of pale collarbone through the opening in his black uniform shirt.

"So you think yourself educated. Amusing." I looked down despite the pain in my neck, my face flushed with shame and anger. "I assure you, I am very familiar with the bureaucratic processes of this government. I know every statute, every order, every footnote. I helped write many of them. Every aspect of this assessment is well within protocol."

I shifted my feet again and the plastifilm crinkled. I thought of the guards outside the door. I was a fool to believe I could outthink him. It only made me realize just how little I knew.

This was his world, not mine.

"Nothing else to say?" he asked, his voice light, bored. I said nothing. "Good."

I saw the hand move only seconds before there was a muffled buzzing noise. I tensed, but it was the girl next to me that cried out as her entire body jerked into a rictus of tension. Her desperate fingers grasped at her collar. Her eyes bulged.

He released it. 142330-K stumbled forward, gasping vocally. The Lieutenant General watched her without joy.

"Spill her blood," he said to her, his voice the same airy tone that contrasted with his words, "and the pain will stop."

My eyes shot to her and I could see the change in her.

She was wild.

She threw herself forward, and I stumbled back into the wall behind me, jarring loose the long pole handle of one of the weapons. I pushed myself away from the wall just as she lunged for me again. Instead of me, her hands landed on the weapon, a hook-bladed spear. She barely had the strength to lift it, but still she jerked it off its moorings, and grasped it.

"Wait-" I started, but my words were choked as my world was consumed in the white, hot, stabbing pain that originated from the spikes in my collar. Outside of my control, I heard a guttural utterance wrench forth from me as every muscle in my body tensed at once. And then, without any more warning, the pain stopped. My body sagged as if the strings holding it had been but. I had control over it again. I blinked the focus back into my vision just in time to see the other girl thrust the bladed end of the spear at my face.

She was not skilled, but still I was almost too slow. She missed by mere centimeters. I stepped out of its path. She stumbled past me, her balance thrown.

Without thinking, I planted my foot on her back and pushed, sending her careening into the floor. The weapon fell beside her with a clatter.

Inside of me, my rage was beginning to gain mass again. I looked at Lieutenant General Hux, watching the spectacle from his comfortable chair.

There was a buzz, and I tensed in anticipation, but it was the other girl who began to writhe and shriek where she stood. Horrified, I watched. The sight of her in such agony sent a wave of nausea through me, caused the acidic gorge to rise in my throat.

When he released her again, she scrambled to her feet, swaying. As frail as she appeared, I thought she might collapse.

Instead, she came at me.

Desperately, I honed in on the ember of rage that had flared to life deep inside of me. She slammed into me and her momentum carried me back into the wall.

My body slammed against it, knocking loose another weapon of some kind. I was desperate trying to throw her off me as she grappled and clawed, grunting with effort.

Her fear-induced bloodthirst had transformed her into a being of instinct. Nails dragged down my arm and left shallow, bleeding gashes in their wake and I slapped away another attempt at my face. A foot kicked my shin.

I struggled to fend her off, but I couldn't bring myself to strike her. She wasn't my enemy. She clashed into me and I pushed back, throwing my weight forward. I outweighed her, and managed to push her hard enough that she fell backwards onto the floor.

The wrath inside of me flared and as my opponent struggled to regain her feet, I looked toward Lieutenant General Hux with contempt so palpable, that even without the Gaze I saw him blanch.

Everything slowed down when I saw his arm start to rise, his thumb poised over the remote device. My mind emptied of all but the steady, swelling, caustic rage that filled me, compressing what had once been my fear and despair into a smaller and smaller space.

I felt the familiar pricking, like a bundle of tiny squirming spider's legs building somewhere between the back of my eyeballs and my temples. I focused upon the clean-cut man watching from his spectator's seat.

Startled, he pressed the button, but instead of stunning me, the pain that coursed through my body, setting my nerves alight, only fueled my rage. It roared in my ears. It passed through me and swirled inside of me, blazing into a tempestuous firestorm, dark and fierce.

My eyes were open; every other muscle was taut. I held nothing back, pouring everything into him that he was directly responsible for making me feel right at that moment.

The shape of Lieutenant General Hux began spasming and jerking in a freakish marionette of agony. He fell to the floor, his body stiff and his face strained.

The pain was gone. He must have released the button. I hadn't even noticed. My breaths came hard and fast, my body shaking. I let him go.

For a long moment, he seemed to lack strength enough to stand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other girl climb to her feet, her movements slow, cautious.

I paid her no attention. I just stared at Hux, challenged him, dared him to try to subdue me again, to give me another reason to hurt him. He pulled himself up, gripping the couch. When his eyes met mine again, I could see that he was shaken to the core.

I'd used the Force to attack an officer. If that didn't warrant execution, I didn't know what did. I didn't care. I felt exhilarated. Powerful.

Hux straightened out his posture, his mouth closed tight. He used his hands to smooth the wrinkles in his clothing. His chest was still heaving; the color was high in his cheeks.

He cleared his throat. He looked at me, and then to the other girl.

"You. Leave now," he said to her, without looking at me. "And speak not a word of this."

"What about-" she started. Before she could finish, Hux pressed another button on the remote, and both of our collars popped open simultaneously. She wasted no time, throwing it down to the floor with a heavy clank. With speed born of pure adrenaline and desperation, she shot past us to the door. When it opened, she stopped, frozen.

The guards were on the other side, guns ready.

"Let her go," Hux said to them, his voice shaky, before he turned back to me. "I'm fine."

Without any more hesitation, the girl raced past them. The door closed again, leaving me alone with the Lieutenant General. Numbly, I dropped my collar onto the floor next to my feet. I rubbed my sore neck for a moment as I looked for a sign of danger.

He was simply watching me with the same strange expression on his face. His eyes were alight.

"I can do it again," I warned, not sure I liked his look. I watched him set the device on the arm rest of the chair before straightening his back and standing with his hands clasped behind him.

"Can you?" he asked. He'd lost the tremor. Was he not afraid?

"You're barbaric," I said with a sneer. "Inhuman."

Hux's brow tensed as he processed my words. He eyed me curiously. In his icy stare, I saw the barest hint of what Phasma had shown me: fascination.

"Perhaps." He said, his words tight, controlled, as he regarded me. "And you are Force-sensitive, it would seem. Somehow, that detail didn't make it into your file."

Without breaking eye contact, I kicked aside the discarded shock collar, wanting as much distance between myself and it as possible. My knees were still shaky, but I gathered my strength and stood straight. At my full height, I was an even match for him.

"It must have escaped your screening," I said. He didn't blink.

"You can do this at will?"

"I could kill you." It was an empty threat; I didn't know that I had the will to do it, even if it were possible. Still, it was all that I had.

He took this news with little more than a slight tightening of his mouth, a twitch of his upper lip. My anger began to fade in the face of his stoicism.

"You _could_ kill me. But you're smarter than that, I think," he said, slow and careful. "You know that you wouldn't get far before you were caught. Executed."

I glanced toward the door, and then cast a brief check of the rest of the space. It seemed that he was correct.

"You would still be dead."

"Then do it," he said, unflinching. The fire in his eyes was unsettling. He was not afraid. I thought of his encounter with Kylo Ren, how he had stood up to the other man. Either Hux was brave, or he'd seen through my empty threat. Either way, it seemed that I couldn't intimidate my way out of this.

"Why didn't you tell your guards to shoot me?"

"I still could," he said. I searched over him as though I could see where he'd hidden a comm piece. "But I won't."

I squared my shoulders to disguise the fearful tremor in my belly. "If you touch me, I _will_ kill you."

Let out a disgusted sigh, his lip curling. "I assure you, I have no interest in forcing myself on anyone."

I felt my anger shrink. Confusion rose in its place.

"Then what do you want with me?" I asked.

"I recognize a fighter when I see one. I chose you because I thought you might put on a good show. I thought you might even win." He didn't blink in the face of my outright disgust. "Even so, it is unusual for a slave to be so… defiant. Conditioning usually curbs such undesirable traits."

"It seems like your process could use more work."

He smiled. "You further prove my point." He straightened the cuffs on his shirt. "Your talent, and your potential, has been wasted. You are untrained, and without containment, you are potentially dangerous."

I immediately thought of Phasma. She'd kept her word and hadn't reported. I didn't know if what Hux said was true; I certainly hadn't intended to cause trouble or defy authority. But if the First Order considered me a danger because of my Force abilities, Phasma could face repercussions for knowing and saying nothing to her superiors.

"I didn't want any of this. If you hadn't brought me here, none of this would have happened," I snapped.

"You were watching me."

Heat rose to my face and I forgot my anger entirely.

"You think that justifies your cruelty?"

"Did you like what you saw?" he retorted, bypassing my question without a second thought.

My face burned hotter. _Yes_ , I thought to myself.

"I liked watching you writhe in pain," I said with an aggressive step forward. "Helpless."

His eyes shone against his face, and he made no move to shrink back. I caught myself wondering why the color was coming to his cheeks as well, why any of this exchange was making me feel something aside from pure rage. Having him at my mercy had provoked an unexpected response. A strange and foreign mixture of malice and pleasure, born from finding myself in a position of power over him, seeing him lose control, even for a few seconds.

"Helpless. Not a word I am used to hearing in regards to myself."

I suddenly became aware that I was not afraid. And neither was he.

"It might do well for you to become more familiar with it."

"You think you are able to judge me?"

"Everything is much clearer from the dirt," I retorted. "I suspect I know more about you than perhaps your fellow officers."

"Oh this is amusing. Care to wager on it?"

I was not sure of anything except that I was right.

"My freedom," I said quickly. "If I am right."

"You want me to just… let you go? On this planet? Or perhaps you are expecting transport as well?"

"I want to be relieved of my slave status. I want to be given a position within the Order. A paid post, without prejudice."

I waited, my eyes hard, as he considered my demands. His expression was unreadable except… the barest hint of amusement.

"Ambitious. And if you're wrong?"

"I leave it to your discretion," I said without wavering.

"And brave. Very well. Tell me about myself."

I took the chance to examine him. His form-fitting, knee-high leather dress boots were shined and smooth. The dark charcoal uniform jodhpurs gave the appearance of strength to his legs, and ended at a straight, narrow waist. His black shirt, long sleeves folded to his mid-forearm, covered the top of his pants as was the style. Everything he wore was tailored so that it skimmed his figure. Everything was pressed, cared for. Immaculate. Perfect.

I recalled his inability to act without thought, his need to plan every action before executing, the efficiency of his attacks.

And finally, I took measure of the man himself. It almost seemed as though he stood a little straighter under my scrutiny, though his expression told me that I had won nothing yet. Despite everything, I couldn't deny that there was a beguiling quality to his face, even severe as it was now.

"Your rigorous standards have earned the respect of your peers, and your superiors," I began, pacing in a slow arc in front of him. I felt like an officer appraising a soldier. The analogy was pleasing to me. "Everything in your world is ordered. Prioritized. I would guess that you earned your place through a combination of intelligence… and cunning."

His eyes narrowed, his upper lip threatened to curl in derision.

"Any might say this. You've revealed no insight that is not commonly known-"

"But you're missing something."

He was taken aback. Almost offended.

"My record is flawless. My men follow me with unquestioning devotion and implicit trust. Supreme Leader trusts me with Command even at my age. And he has seen the result of his trust in me. Because of me, the First Order's military strength will soon surpass even that of the old Empire-"

"But it's not enough is it?" I asked, cutting him off. His mouth closed, eyelid twitching. "You must always be on guard. You must always present the appearance of perfection. You must always prove yourself worthy. There is no relief."

His expression began to change. The steely exterior began to soften, his eyes focusing elsewhere as he thought about what I'd said. I knew that I was right at that moment.

"And you think you know where I might find this 'relief'?" he asked at last, his voice sharp. I had a moment of self-doubt. Of fear that I was wrong, that I had misjudged, that I would pay for my mistake with my life.

Instead of fighting those feelings, I twisted them into something else, something I could use against him. I felt the power gather in my eyes. I took a deep breath, affected calm.

"On your knees," I answered with a shrug, as though it were obvious. There was a tense beat. And then he scoffed, but his derision now seemed uncertain. Self-conscious. He made no move to comply.

I concentrated on the feelings inside of me, gently urged them to grow. Something was different. I could feel the Force, if that's what it was, responding to my will. It was direct this time, not merely a result of my present situation. I could sense the power gathering in me, strengthened by my emotions.

"I said, _on your knees_." And then, with a movement of my wrists, I made as to cast forward the power I felt inside of me. No longer restricted to my eyes, this power came from the hot center of my emotions.

Hux cried out, a guttural groan. His entire body jerked like a whip, hands frozen in claws, scheming eyes wide and empty of anything but agony. His back strained, arched backwards. The shirt he wore lifted with his body's movements and I could see a flash of smooth pale skin.

I let him go and he stumbled forward, caught himself.

He looked at me then, his cheeks flushed, those same eyes now alight as with fever. And then, Lieutenant General Hux began to lower himself to his knees before me. His chest heaved with breath. The sound of his breathlessness, and the sight of his obedience, was almost more than I could process. He _enjoyed_ it.

I gave my brain a chance catch up to the surreal situation, allowed myself to drink in the sight of him kneeling in front of me, to accept that this was truly happening. Guards still stood outside the door to his quarters. The weapons from the fight were within reach.

A familiar trembling began deep inside of me. My pulse pounded in my throat, and I felt its echo in the tender flesh between my legs.

"Remove your shirt." The voice almost sounded as though it hadn't come from me. It was hard, unquestionable. Dominant. I saw him hesitate. I might have struck him again, but I was enjoying the conflict I saw pass over his face and battle between his eyes and his serious brows. When he removed the comm from the inner collar of his shirt, I understood why. Until now, it was a direct line to help, should he find himself in danger. He could have called his guards at any time, but he didn't.

With his eyes on me, he took his shirt from the bottom and began pulling it over his head. With his back straight and his arms up, his stomach sloped gently inwards beneath his ribs. His skin was smooth and milky pale. He removed the shirt and set it beside him before resuming his previous pose; as formal as possible while kneeling. I didn't miss how neatly he laid the garment beside him. I admired him as well as I could without showing it.

"What am I to call you?" he asks.

I thought of Phasma, and what she'd said to me.

"Sir," I replied.

"Sir," he repeated with keen interest. The act of speaking the word itself seemed to excite him.


	9. Power and Punishment

Sir. It filled me with joy to hear that word come from Hux's mouth. But still, it was too controlled. He was too guarded and composed; his back was too straight. I caught sight of his smooth stomach, which curved in just beneath his ribs, his small, vulnerable pink nipples, and the light scatter of freckles that I'd seen a hint of before.

I let him see me appraise his figure. His breath quickened under my eye as I walked around him slowly.

"Are you pleased with what you see?" he asked as though he meant for it to sound inconsequential, as though he didn't care. Or perhaps, as though he thought he knew the answer. I would have to correct him of his pride.

"No," I replied in one sharp syllable. I could almost see the subtle change in his posture. "You disgust me. You abuse your authority and make others suffer for your entertainment. You are everything that I despise about the First Order."

With every word his face took on more and greater disbelief. I leaned in close to him, forcing my face to be uncomfortably near to his.

"You'll beg for my forgiveness," I sneered. "Or you'll be punished."

I could see his mind working, trying to figure out if I meant him harm, or if this were all simply part of the game. I straightened up so that I towered over him. I willed the Force to respond to my desires, to transmit to him the wrath that roiled inside of me, hateful and hissing. The heat in my spine flared with the surge of power and suddenly Hux was shuddering and arching his back, a sound in between a grunt and a moan pouring from his throat. Every muscle in his torso flexed at once beneath his fair skin, arms tense and quaking. Just as suddenly, I released him from the Force power that I'd inflicted upon him and his body sagged forward. A hand moved forward to hold his body up. His fingers clenched, his fist shook.

When he looked up at me, his eyes were bleary, clouded as though he were drugged. He struggled, and eventually forced himself to kneel upright once more. There, at the front of his jodhpurs, I could see what appeared to be a small bulge.

"Beg my forgiveness, scum," I snarled. I felt a small twitch between my legs, subtly pressed my thighs together to alleviate it. I could feel the folds of my vulva slide against one another, slick already from arousal. What was wrong with me?

"Please, Sir," he grated, his eyes narrowed as though he fought through a haze to look at me. "Please forgive me."

"Are you enjoying this?" I asked, sharp. He took a deep, shuddering breath and swayed where he knelt. He licked his lips.

"Are you?"

The next time I struck him with my power, I could not ignore the fact that each time, something of what I was feeling was being passed to him. Mingled with the pain of my wrath was the unmistakable heat of desire. Of lust and carnal wants. Hux fell forward, a pathetic sight on his hands and knees. I savored the way the ridges of his spine seemed to move beneath his skin like a serpent. He gasped vocally, his ribs swelling and contracting. He seemed so thin at this moment, so frail. Something dark began to encroach inside of me, a shade born of the mingled attraction and very real anger I felt toward this man. I wanted to hurt him. Or fuck him. Or some combination of the two.

"From this moment on, you will obey me without question. Is that clear?"

"Yes Sir," he responded.

"Are you enjoying this? Answer me, scum."

Another flash of agony and it took Hux longer to recover, to sit straight up.

"Yes, Sir," he breathed.

"Take off your pants," I ordered. I bit my lip, unable to stop my eyes from straying down to the narrow waist of his uniform pants. The bulge seemed more noticeable than it was before. He hesitated, fearful eyes looking to me before turning down

"My boots," he said tersely. I saw the boots in question; they fit him like a second skin, tight and with no visible fastener. I understood immediately, and when I did, I laughed. The color rose in his cheeks, blotchy and red. His uniform boots were molded to his calves, and there was no visible closure. It likely required some extra work, or perhaps an extra pair of hands, to put them on or remove them. Something about that level of helplessness amused me.

"Leave them on, then. Remove your pants as well as you are able," I said with a cruel smile.

Hux immediately began to unfasten the front of his waistband. I watched him breathless with anticipation. With some hesitation, he pulled the jodhpurs down until they bunched at the bend of his knees.

Beneath, he wore a single pair of black, standard issue brief shorts that I could tell fit him like a glove. The insubstantial garment stood out from his porcelain skin. It took every iota of my self-control not to break our eye contact and gawk like an idiot. I'd seen naked men, but none came close to how this man made me feel to see him so undressed, hovering between unnerved and captivated. A heady combination.

He knelt in nothing but his unsubstantial undergarment, an item of clothing that now stood out starkly. He was watching me carefully, waiting for a reaction. I allowed myself to take in the full sight of him now, making sure to appear unimpressed to his scrutiny.

I made it clear that I was entirely unmoved by the bare stretches of his supple, creamy white skin, which clung to the lean, but fit, musculature of his body frame. I had to be clear, with no room for doubt, that none of what I saw before me made my breath catch to imagine touching it, stroking it, crushing it to submission.

My eyes did briefly touch that area covered in clinging black fabric beneath his navel, but I quickly returned them to his face to maintain this appearance of disinterest. I had only needed a scarce moment to take in the sight of his partially swollen organ, a conspicuous soft bulge below the otherwise firm line of his lower abdomen. The material of his briefs concealed nothing, and the paleness of his skin showed his emotional state as clearly as writing.

"I am at your mercy," he said. "Please… let me please you."

Surely I was dreaming. I took in a slow, shaky breath, tried to come to terms with what was happening.

I was, for the moment, unrestrained. And apart from the General, who was in a compromising position, I was without witnesses. The door was so close. I could make a run for it. He would be unable to catch me with his pants around his knees, and the guards might assume that I left with his blessing. Perhaps the humiliation would be enough to keep him from seeking me out. Perhaps it would be enough to warrant being tortured to death. Even so, I realized that fear wasn't motivating me to stay. I wanted this as much as he did.

With his guards on the other side of the door, I began to remove my clothing.

"Eyes down, scum," I snapped when I saw the hungry gaze on me. He complied immediately and, knowing he couldn't see me, I smiled. I stripped down to my leggings, dropping the removed clothes on the floor. Hux watched them fall. I peeled the leggings down my legs and kicked them aside.

I came over to where he knelt until I stood in front of him. I drew in a shaky breath.

"How much blood was spilled here?" I asked. His jaw tensed, but he didn't look up. "How many slaves died in the name of your 'assessments'?"

I curled my fingers into fists. They itched to touch him, to fist his neat red hair, pull his head back and expose that long neck.

"Twelve," he said tersely. My lip twitched. He continued. "Fourteen were accepted into our reserves program. They were happy to do it."

"When the alternative is death, why wouldn't they be?" I hissed, leaning in close, feeling the power burn in my chest. His eyes flickered up, widened when he saw my nudity, then met mine.

"Would you choose to remain enslaved?"

My mouth tightened, but I fought my anger, tried to stay above it. I smiled and knew it was the right reaction; it startled him.

"Would _you_?" I asked. I, too, could play this game, if he wanted. His eyes narrowed, and his lips parted. He swallowed, but he didn't answer. I stepped closer. So close that my groin was at his eye level, so close that I had to look down at him between my breasts. His eyes were on mine, though, and did not stray. He swallowed again.

"We are all enslaved," he said, startling me with his candidness. "To some thing or another. I'd prefer a master of my choosing."

I smirked, and I saw the hint of an answering smirk in the corners of his pink mouth. Slowly, I turned and walked away from him and behind him. I took a seat upon his black leather couch. I assumed the position he had, one leg propped up on the couch beside me, the other on the floor, and reclined against the back rest casually.

He faced away from me now, and I momentarily admired the sight of his strong back which sloped downward to his firm, round buttocks, hugged with excruciating intimacy by the fabric of his undergarment. His head was turned sideways to watch me.

"Face me," I said. Slowly, awkwardly, he turned on his knees so that he now knelt before me. Even now I could detect the barest hint of suspicion in his fine features, as if he expected me to make a run for it or take advantage to gain my freedom. He didn't know that I was exactly where I wanted to be. I would have to show him. The only way I could gather my thoughts and focus them in the direction I needed them to go, was to remember how Captain Phasma had made me feel that first night, when, grateful and in awe of her presence and aroused by her attentions, I allowed the world to open beneath me.

There was something more to my power. She'd said she was not usually so impulsive. But something about my Gaze had affected her judgment. Was that what was happening now?

My breath hitched, and a line of fire seemed to flare to life around my clit as I remembered her hand stroking me expertly, gently. I lifted one leg and rested it on the couch, while the other hung open, comfortably, exposing myself and the slick wetness between my legs to the man kneeling before me on the floor.

I looked him square in the eyes, with the slightest caress of my Gaze, I drew my hand lazily downward, brushing a thumb over and then around my nipple, sending a bolt of electricity to my groin. His upper body jerked involuntarily, and I saw his bulge twitch and harden slightly, his chest swell with a sharp intake of air.

For a moment, I was shocked and forgot myself. His reaction had not only been one of pain. He'd _felt_ the pleasure.

He had felt it. Drawing from the heat pooling in my belly, bypassing the quivering wrath in my chest to fuel the power in my eyes. His suspicions were gone, lost to the lustful haze that settled over his perfect face. Even now, though, I could see that he held rigid control over himself. My hand moved below my breast, and now he watched it seek the delicate skin between my legs, followed my fingers as I drew them around and along my folds.

The contact of my hand on that most sensitive of flesh sent a vibrating ripple deep inside of me, and I had to struggle to maintain steady, even breaths. Lieutenant General Hux was not so prepared. He groaned when I shared this sensation with him, his eyes shining and slightly out of focus as his entire being honed in on my hand. His back curved slightly inward, abdominal muscles tightening as his erection grew and began to strain against his shorts.

His arms, which had until now hung slack at his sides, tensed, and one hand began to move toward the undergarment, and I momentarily forgot my plan. I watched hungrily to see what was underneath. And then I recalled the point of this exercise and I let a tiny fraction of my anger slip out, like sand between my fingers, and touch him. That tiniest of punishments stung, making him freeze and causing those blue eyes to snap to mine, questioning. I needed to lay down some rules.

"Don't move, don't touch yourself," I stated, my voice sharp and unwavering, the hand between my legs pausing. "And don't look away from my eyes." I absently slipped my finger between my lips, sliding them along the slick folds, a wake of tingling heat spreading outward from that point. Hux began to breathe harder, dragging his eyes reluctantly away from my cunt and back to mine. He nodded jerkily. "Answer me with words, scum."

"Yes... Sir." I was suddenly electrified, and intensely aroused, a fact that my throbbing groin did not let me ignore. My hand began to move again, stroking my engorged nerves gently and deliberately, and as the waves of warm self-administered pleasure began to envelope me, I struggled to keep my eyes open.

I felt the immensity of that place that I'd visited before, with Phasma, the place that seemed beyond time and beyond measure, but as I felt the bright hot waves encroach, I willed myself to stay above them, to stay present in Hux's quarters. As I touched myself, I locked him and held him captive in my Gaze, and the man was a slave to it, and to the sensations that expanded past my body and toward his. They bathed him completely, linking his mind to my nerve endings as I stroked and kneaded, the pulsing throb of my heartbeat pounding against my moist fingertips.

I could see his cock grow hard, and I almost felt it as if it were part of me, felt the taut, almost painful ache, desperate to be touched and stroked, to be enveloped, for relief from the pressure building relentlessly within him. The ocean lapped at the arches in my feet, delicious warmth seductively calling me down into its depths, but I resisted; the prickling mass of hatred in my chest reminded me why I was here, what my goal was.

Hux's composure, however, was disintegrating under the barrage of my self-ministrations, and when I suddenly pinched my swollen clit between my fingers, setting my own nerves alight like a sudden burst of fuel upon the raging fire in my center, his torso buckled forward, and a groan forced its way past his lips, his eyes alight and still locked to mine as an arm was thrown forward to catch himself. I could see through the fabric of his shorts that the tip of his cock was damp. He was already so close, and I hadn't even touched him.

I applied pressure as I swirled my fingertips in the throbbing center of prickling heat, my own stomach muscles clenching and trembling, and using something I'd learned from Phasma, I plunged a finger into my tender vagina, blinded momentarily by the overwhelming power I felt when I touched myself inside, the raw, quivering heat that moved in waves across the surface of my skin as I fucked myself with one, then two fingers, curled them toward the front wall where there seemed to be an exquisite nerve cluster.

Hux was on his hands and knees, his face locked with mine, desperation, panic, mindless need bringing blotchy color to his pale face, all his resolve gone, replaced by the panting animal need to release, but still I held him there, not allowing anything to come into contact with the hot, swollen mass of his cock, straining against his undergarment.

I wanted nothing more at that moment to rip it away, baring him to me completely, and sink onto it, to relieve the agony of my own desire, but I didn't move my body from its place above him. I forced him to feel what I felt, and as I brought myself close to the precipice, I felt some of my anger, acting as if it had a will of its own, join with the pleasure, delivering to him bolts of ecstasy edged with pain which made him whimper low in his throat.

I tipped over the edge and every muscle clenched and released at once, shudders of repressed energy moving throughout my body as fire exploded behind my eyes, blinding me for a fraction of a second to the intense rapture that consumed me. I was dimly aware of Lieutenant General Hux's strong body doubled over, eyes closed, hands alternately splayed and clenched on the floor before him, quaking and jerking as he released spurts of fluid that absorbed wetly into the front of his black briefs, grunting through gritted teeth, an almost frightening animal sound that only seemed to add to the symphony of pleasure washing over me.

For a time, all we had was the shared sensation of the receding orgasm.

When Hux looked at me next, I was standing tall in front of him.

He couldn't seem to gather himself. He was prone, bowing before me as his chest swelled and heaved with breath, spine shuddering helplessly as the waves of orgasm died away. When he looked up at me, it was as if he were gazing upon something blindingly bright and terrifying. His face, for the first time, was completely unguarded, and he looked much younger than his years without all those layers of protocol and self-imposed barriers.

He was beautiful, and after our connection, I felt I could see through him. He looked away, curled in on himself for a moment before returning to an upright kneeling position, the pulse in his neck jumping from the exertion, his hair in disarray and falling into his shining eyes.

He looked much better this way, more like a human being than a First Order officer, the monster that he was. With the ejaculate glistening in the fabric and, I knew, quickly growing cold against his softening genitals, he also looked pitiful, almost laughable. I let it show in my expression. I motioned for him to stand, and watched with pleasure as he seemed unable to make his legs work properly at first, finally climbing unsteadily to his feet. His height matched mine, but his posture was still slightly hunched, making him appear much smaller.

I held out my hand to his cheek, and without hesitation, he pressed his damp face into my palm, nuzzled it. It was the first time we had touched directly, and he seemed to savor it.

"Maybe you do know," he said breathlessly. His eyes now moved over me slowly. His lips parted. Every facet of his demeanor read as desire. I faltered when I realized that it was reciprocated. How could I want a man like this after what he'd shown himself to be capable of?

"If you say, then it seems I have won our wager, Lieutenant General."

He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as though it pained him. Then he straightened his back and held his hands behind him in a decorous posture.

"I'm a fair man," he said, regarding me with careful respect. He had regained the controlled clip of his voice, all but for a small tremor. "I will see to it that you are… taken care of. On one condition."

What trick was this?

" _What_ condition?"

He dropped his eyes, quiet, before replying.

"That you negotiate your terms with me for our continued association."

My heart skipped a beat before shooting forward at a frightening pace. I forced myself to appear that I was calmly considering his offer when inside, I fought to regain my breath. He wanted to see me again, like this. I wanted to see more of him now. I needed time to think. Hux was watching me with upturned eyes that smoldered with heat. His cheeks still bore the flush of his arousal.

"A fair negotiation," I asserted, mustering calm in my even intonation. I remembered what he'd said about his familiarity with regulations and recognized that I was out of my depth. With that in mind, I added, "with impartial counsel."

He nodded with some measure of impatience. "I will hold to my end of the wager. You will receive what you asked for. If you allow me to… make myself presentable. We can discuss the arrangement formally."

I nodded and stepped back, dropping my hand from his face. His cheek seemed to follow my palm before he realized what he was doing. He cleared his throat and began to pull his pants up. He looked at me as he fastened the belt.

Without acknowledging him, I began to dress as well. On the outside, I still wore my mask of self-confident disdain.

Inside, I was reeling.

Over hot caf and food, brought to his quarters by a polite protocol droid, we discussed our terms. Hux was honorable enough. He called in a bureaucratic officer as a neutral party to assist in the regulatory details once evidence of our interaction was cleared, and once we got my story straight.

I was Sindal Teraah, a promising young recruit from an academy on one of the former Imperial-sympathizing core worlds, a diplomat and a counselor. The bureaucrat didn't question it, though I suspected he thought there might be more to it than was readily apparent.

I felt giddy, and from the barely restrained excitement in Hux's eyes, the emotion was shared. Even now, I felt a strange connection to him, snippets of alien feeling and sensation. The result of our activities was still sitting uncomfortably beneath his uniform jodhpurs, a thrilling secret that gave an added edge to the mundane legal discussion.

With the main components of my employment squared away, Lieutenant General Hux and I shook hands with a witness to seal the deal. Without any personal belongings, there was nothing to gather from my bunk and I was taken to temporary lodgings in a guest suite.

When I went to my bed that night, I first lay awake, wired. The thought of seeing him again, of dominating him, of being called 'Sir' from that mouth. It was more than I would have ever dared to dream. But the paperwork was official. I had a title, a name, a commission.

I was, by most measures, free.


	10. Gilded Cages and False Freedoms

Author's Note: updated with revisions on Dec 13, 2016

* * *

The Lieutenant General's bare chest heaved, glistening with sweat as he struggled to maintain an upright posture. His lower arms were bound behind his back, wrists to the opposing elbow at right angles so that his shoulders were pulled behind him tightly, forcing his chest forward. It looked terribly uncomfortable, but at Hux's behest, I was to make it as tight as I wanted.

And I wanted it tight.

I walked around his kneeling form, a pine tree switch in my hand, gently caressing my naked thighs with the soft, green needles that were still attached to the scaly twigs. More were scattered on the floor around the Lieutenant General, their legacy left in small, angry welts that hatched across his pale shoulders and chest. The skin around them had become inflamed and blotchy, with a redness which radiated outward, a visible indicator of how raw his nerves were.

To me, it was art. I examined the pattern. Perhaps a testament to the chaotic nature of the inner self. Whatever it was, I was extremely proud of every cut, some deeper than others, but none so deep as to spill blood.

So far, my life as a free woman outside of Hux's quarters had been rather boring. For the past two hours, I had moved through a list of my own concoction, in ascending order of least to most cruel and degrading. I wanted to test his limits; as cool and controlled as he was, and more importantly, as prideful as he was, the limit was high. But it was there.

In nothing but a pair of standard issue stormtrooper gloves and a pair of black thigh-high tights, he found it difficult to keep his eyes on my face as I knew he would.

I passed in front of him in my slow circuit, I stopped, sought out one of the few untouched places on his chest. In a flick of my wrist so quick that it was a blur, I whipped the switch across a hard, puckered nipple. He uttered another pained grunt, a little louder than last time, and I found myself wondering, not for the first time that evening, whether I had gone too far. His swollen cock, with one vein bulging, forming a ridge underneath as it strained forward between his bent legs, told me otherwise.

"Please, Sir."

The way his voice cracked mid-plea sent a delicious ripple of warmth through me and intensified the thrum of my pulse between my legs. I never knew that torturing a willing man could be so electrifying, so gratifying.

"Please what?" I iced, drawing the small branch across my breasts, appreciating the silkiness of the long needles against my skin and the fresh, biting scent of pine in my nostril. It was an interesting tool, the pine branch, capable of generating sensation on either end of the spectrum. And something about its natural origins seemed to provide an especially meaningful contrast the controlled artificial environment inside of the base. As Hux's desperate face followed the trail of pine needles across my chest and nipples, I considered that perhaps next time I would request to go to the surface myself. I wondered what it was like up there. Probably cold.

"Please… let me please you," he said through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse. His cool eyes were narrowed, and looked only at me. It seemed that he'd followed my order not to pleasure himself the past week. I could almost feel his desperation. It was so acute that even I found the continued denial of his relief difficult.

He was a Lieutenant General, at the top of his game and in the prime of his life, serving in the most powerful military in the galaxy. But now, he was a panting, crumpled, welt-ridden mess. He was malleable. He would have done anything I asked at this point. I considered asking him something impossible, just for the sake of punishing him.

I walked up to him so that my groin was just scant inches from his face, and using my free hand, I parted my outer labia with the glove and let him see how wet I was. He groaned, but he had learned his lesson with an earlier infraction and did not move toward it. Even so, he was almost salivating to be so near my arousal.

Power play, I found, was intensely cerebral. It aroused and engaged me in an entirely different way than being passive, but there was always that element of firm control over myself as much as him. The surrender could never be mutual between us. There was too much at stake. And there was so much to gain by continuing.

Knowing that he wanting a thing so sorely that it drove him on the brink of madness, and that that thing was me, gave me a kind of enjoyment that I'd never even thought to dream of before. A lowly slave now held the reins of a Lieutenant General.

I leaned my hips forward slightly, close enough that I could feel the air of his inhalations as he breathed me in. I lowered my body down toward the floor, spreading my legs. The space between us, narrow without touching, felt charged. I knew he could feel it.

I could see the single-minded focus in his expression. The hunger in his soft mouth. He was beautiful like this, though I didn't intend to ever tell him. Handsome and raw, pink and pale, fragile yet strong, angry yet supplicating. Visceral, visual poetry of desire.

His every muscle was tense, his entire body rigid and quaking as he resisted the urge to move against my wishes. I now knelt, nearly straddling him with my thighs on either side of his. My groin hovered just above the shaft of his bare cock, its tip glistening with pre-come. The heat in the space between us multiplied. He looked up at me as a wretch might look upon royalty. His face had turned a shade of maroon, beads of sweat dripped from the ends of the red hair that had fallen into his face.

He was near to bursting, I knew. I was, too. Everything between my legs was a throbbing, almost painful for how slick it was. Out of his line of sight, I flicked my hand, striking him across his already inflamed skin between the shoulder blades.

The pain surprised him and made him to jerk forward into me and cry out as the tip of his cock brushed my thigh. It was the barest contact with his engorged member that caused him the most anguish, and I couldn't help but take joy in his discomfort. He seemed to enjoy a measure of pain, whether through the Force or the physical torments I devised, though I made sure to reward him with an equally compelling hint of pleasure.

When he unclenched his eyelids, his brow was furrowed hard as he struggled to concentrate on something besides the pain. The icy shards of blue were swimming in unspilled tears. He didn't look like an officer anymore. It was time.

With a sigh, I drew myself up into a standing position and back-stepped until I reached the couch. I sat down, spread my thighs, and beckoned the broken man to me.

He wasn't graceful, bound as he was around his thighs and ankles, but I was impressed with how quickly he moved.

This was his reward for what I'd put him through, a reminder of my fairness, and why he obeyed me in the first place.

When he fell upon me, he was ravenous and uncharacteristically sloppy. I felt a hint of teeth and lightly threatened with an ever-so-gentle caress of the switch along the swollen, angry welts on his back. I knew that even such gentle contact was agony to him, as he flinched and pulled away.

He took a long, shaky breath. After that, he was more careful. I allowed myself to enjoy this as well, the delicate, careful movements of his tongue and lips.

He was a quick learner. My gloved hand raked through his hair, mussing it further. I tightened my fingers when his ministrations began to show results in the slow heat building in my spine. Lapping at me like a dog, repetitive and regular strokes with the tip of his tongue. He was as methodical in this as he was in anything else. In this context, I couldn't help but appreciate him for it.

His eyes were rolled back, half closed as he concentrated. The better he was at his duty, the better I made him feel.

With every bolt of pleasure he made me feel, I let half again spread to him. With each small gift, he let out a muffled groan between my thighs that reverberated to my core.

He flicked the firm tip of his wet tongue from side to side across my swollen clit. I clenched the muscles, straining forward to press his face deeper into me. It wasn't until I could tell he was having difficulties breathing that I released my grip on him. He gasped for air only briefly before redoubling his efforts.

I wondered if he'd just fuck me if I let him. He seemed to want it, his every shaky breath spoke of need, and plunge of his tongue perhaps a surrogate for his stiff organ inside of me. But I wasn't so sure. His enjoyment seemed derived from the denial of what he wanted.

As it had twice before just this evening, my orgasm crashed into me, sparks of power wavering invisibly inside of my chest as it welled upward with gasping breaths and almost musical cries. Mercifully, or unmercifully depending on the perspective, I hit him with the full force of my cresting ecstasy.

I was further thrilled by the sight of his entire narrow body jerking forward as he uttered a guttural, stuttering moan, all semblance of control lost. Thick, hot jets of white ejaculate came forth in spurts from the tip of his cock in time with the thrust of hips as he ground them helplessly into the floor before the couch.

When he sagged, spent, I bent down over him and removed the restraints, which were no more than a wide, soft band of fabric tied loosely. With gentleness, I pulled his arms from behind his back.

Hux was beside himself, quaking, eyes closed, brows pinched. If he enjoyed it as much as he seemed to, I could understand why he'd been so desperate to keep me. By many indications, it seemed that my power intensified the orgasms others felt under my influence.

"Good boy," I whispered in his ear, to an answering sigh. "Lay with me for a little while, Lieutenant General."

I curled around him and held him, lowering us both to the soft, carpeted floor with my belly and front pressed to his hot, tender back. His damp head rested on my arm and my hand stroked his side.

How small he felt, how like a child, or a gangly teenage boy. Taking care of him seemed the right thing to do if I had any intention for this to be sustainable, though the maternal nature of my care felt strange with the difference in our years.

Gradually, his breaths slowed and his shaking stopped.

With a deep breath, he removed my hand from its place draped over his side and climbed stiffly to his feet, using the couch as leverage. I stood up soon after he did, amazed with how quickly the heat had dissolved between us now that he was satisfied. Though I'd had my release, I couldn't help but feel a small sense of resentment. After all my care and self-control, I felt more tense now than I had when I started. I sighed.

"I trust that your new quarters are to your liking?" he asked me, his voice was still a little rough. He disappeared into the back room and into his washroom. I heard running water as he turned on his shower, followed by a sharp gasp. I imagined that the hot water spraying the inflamed flesh of his upper back, chest, and shoulders stung, and I smiled to myself.

"More than suitable." I answered. He'd offered me something larger, something closer to him, but I had declined. I didn't want my living space to be anywhere near his. And after living in the cramped bunk, I found that I didn't care to have too much space.

While the man showered and recovered, I changed out of my garments of play and into my uniform. Created from a database of a few thousand Order-approved non-military clothing patterns, my uniform was was modest, with long sleeves and long skirts, but tailored to my figure so that it skimmed my hips and waist.

I'd chosen a veil to go with the uniform, something popular on Core worlds. It was not fashion that motivated me, however. The veil would serve both to add formality to my position, and maintain some anonymity.

When Hux emerged from the back of his quarters, one would never guess that underneath his clean uniform, my handiwork would serve as a private reminder of what transpired behind these closed doors.

That night, as I took advantage of my access to the public databases from my new quarters' work station, I received a notification from Hux.

He'd scheduled a formal briefing with me in the morning, something regarding an important meeting he had with his superior, a General Rhidan. There was little other explanation. I'd heard the name before, though I couldn't quite place it. I confirmed my attendance, curious as to the nature of the briefing.

* * *

"I'm not a whore," I stated, my voice flat. The hour was still early, and I was in no mood to hear what Hux was implying. Alone in a conference chamber, I didn't hesitate to speak my mind.

Hux almost responded when the conference room's door opened. It was the droid, bearing the service for our hotcaf.

Hux's mouth tightened as he gestured for the droid to hurry up and leave. I poured myself a cup and stared at him, almost daring him to say something about the fact that I had not offered to serve him.

"I am aware," he said.

"Are you? My contract says nothing of my obligation to fuck your superiors."

Hux's annoyance simmered close beneath the placid surface.

"Your contract says nothing regarding services rendered to me personally, either. Officially, your capacity would be to assist me in these meetings. To provide advice or council, should I need it."

"And unofficially?" I asked, my cup of steaming caf poised halfway from the table to my mouth.

" _Unofficially_ , you are a former slave whose unique abilities warranted removal from your circumstances. Your position now is determined entirely by your use to me." As he spoke, I felt the anger that had been stewing inside of me since that first meeting begin to rise. He reached for a datapad sitting on the table. "If you wish, we can go over your contract. Your agreement, which you signed, states that your employment is dependent on the needs of the Order."

I leaned forward, my eyes narrowed.

"Was it the needs of the Order that made you kneel before me and call me 'Sir?'" I hissed. My rage battled to be set free, to strike at him. I smothered the impulse.

Lieutenant General Hux took what I said with infuriating calm.

"I enjoy your company, of course," he said. He poured himself a cup, just as calm, but I could spot the faint tremor in his hand that he struggled to suppress. "The arrangement is mutually beneficial, is it not? Professionally. Perhaps even… personally?"

I didn't answer him for a long moment, looking instead through the viewport behind him. The window opened onto one of the hangar bays. Tiny figures in Tech uniforms scurried about ships, busy at work. Their lives must have been so simple. My anger sank to a less urgent place in my gut, taking my pride with it.

"I am grateful for what you've done," I said, my voice neutral. "But I will not debase myself for you. If you intend to coerce me into using my body for your own advancement… you can consider our 'arrangement' void."

Hux leaned back in the chair and regarded me with a contemplative expression on his face. My own expression was hard, and revealed as little as possible, but my heart was pounding. If he were any other man, I might not have said such a thing and placed my freedom on the line, to make this stand.

He took a sip from his cup.

"I won't force you to perform beyond your official capacity, as stated in your contract. Your loyalties must be to the Order first, and to its laws, not to me. I just insist that you consider how you could better the Order in the position you've been given."

I searched his face for any hidden meaning.

"How exactly would gaining General Rhidan's favor better the Order?"

Hux typed some commands into his datapad and slid it over to me. On the screen was a sectional schematic. I couldn't make sense of it until I recognized the shape of Starkiller's great eye within the equatorial chasm. The Superweapon. I could see now that its structure extended far below the planet's surface.

"This is what's at stake," he said. I looked at him, nonplussed. He continued, impatient, pulling the datapad back toward himself. "Starkiller's weapon is to represent the First Order's military might. When it is complete, the fear of it will bring the entire galaxy to its knees."

"What is your point?"

The small huff of breath was the only indicator that his patience was nearing its end. He maintained control, to his credit.

"General Amon Rhidan is a relic from another era," he said with surprising sharpness. "He chooses caution when action is the only recourse. Timing is _critical_. The Order _must_ seize control now, while the Republic is unaware. Before the Resistance gains enough strength to oppose us. To wait would mean disaster for all."

I was stunned by his candidness. This was personal.

"And so you want me to… what… befriend him? Convince him that you're right?"

Hux met my eyes.

"I want you to get to know the General. Befriend him, perhaps. He is not an unlikable man," he said, though the look of distaste on his face told me this was a sentiment he didn't share. "Endear yourself to him. If he should come to trust you, his incompetency may reveal itself."

"You want to use me to spy on him."

He set the datapad down with sudden force. His face was tight and tense.

"You misunderstand my meaning," he said, his eyes flashing. "Spying on a superior officer would be treason. I am simply suggesting that you, of your own choosing, get to know him. Be an advisor. Counsel him. In other words, _do your job._ "

I could sense that my protests had pushed him too far. It took him a moment to compose his thoughts. He closed his eyes, holding his cup. He took a sip and set it down. When he looked at me again, it was with perfect calm.

"It's simply a fact, that as a non-military contracted worker, you may fraternize with officers as you will. Outside of duty-hours. As such, our personal arrangement is well within formal regulations. Informally, I lay no claim to you. You are free to pursue whomever you wish. Romantically, or sexually. Or in any other way that you choose." He gave me a pointed look. "Do you understand?"

There was more meaning in the implicit subtext of his words than was readily obvious. He wouldn't go against his word and force me to sleep with Rhidan, but it was clear that I was to use whatever tools were at my disposal to accomplish his ends.

My victory was small, but I needed to take it. I fixed a close-lipped smile on my face and pushed the resentment down.

"I understand your meaning perfectly, Lieutenant General."

* * *

Once I'd returned to my new quarters, I glanced through the meeting itinerary, dismayed by the proposed five-hour time slot Hux had allotted for it tomorrow. In Hux's rather dry terms, the purpose of the meeting was to discuss his Superweapon Resource Prioritization Solvency Proposal. He gave me an annotated and abridged version of the proposal, but the document consisted of multiple files and pages of text.

I tried to read the document, but I didn't make much progress before my eyes began to lose focus. It wasn't only that the concepts surrounding the inner workings and technical specifications of the Superweapon were beyond my comprehension, it was the fact that his writing style was so dry and bureaucratic. There was as much information in the footnotes as in the main body of the proposal. The overwhelming quiet in my quarters, apart from a buzzing just hovering at the edges of my range of hearing in this part of the base, was disconcerting as well.

After catching myself re-reading the same paragraph for the third time, I ordered some hot caf to be brought to my quarters.

I had to remember what was at stake. I was an educated young student from a core world academy. I needed to make my backstory convincing. I needed to prepare myself for the meeting, on the unlikely chance that I might be called upon for my input.

After the caf was delivered, I reined in my straying attention and logged into the Starkiller database network. With my position's clearance level, I had access to knowledge that was out of my reach as a slave. Lacking the entire foundation of knowledge that I should have had with my fabricated life, it was difficult to know where to even begin.

So, I made myself comfortable, and delved in. I used Hux's notes as a loose guide for what I needed to know, but relied on the public database to expound upon terms and concepts I didn't understand.

Before long, I found myself utterly engrossed, much as I had been when using the console in Phasma's quarters.

My studies kept me awake well into the night.


	11. Ambition's Blinding Light

Author's note: updated and revised on December 21st, 2016

* * *

Though I only got four hours of sleep, I made sure to wake early. I requested basic information about the officers that would be attending the meeting so that I might be prepared, and as I washed up and dressed, I kept the datapad propped up so that I could read through and memorize the names and faces.

Immediately, I was confronted with the fact that I would be in the company of the upper echelon of ranking officials on the base. The thought of being surrounded by such important people made me feel nauseous. Uniform or not, all I could see in my mirror was 221784-R. Though the designation had been retired and marked as "inactive," I had a feeling that it would never truly leave me. Logically, I knew that none of them would recognize me by my face, even without my veil, but my fear that I would be found out whirled around in my head as I worked to match the faces in the files to their names and ranks.

I'd done what I could in the time Hux had given me to prepare, but I had no idea what my expected role would be, officially. Was it normal to have an Advisor present for meetings such as this? I didn't know, but I could do nothing except show up and hope for the best.

I met Hux waiting outside of a turbolift. He gave me a curt nod, but no other recognition. I suspected that he was distracted by the upcoming conference, and tried not to let it bother me as we stood silently beside on another. The turbolift stopped two levels up to let on two men, and I recognized them as two of the officers in the meeting's manifest. Lieutenant General Hux introduced me to them formally, but his manner was terse and ungenial, even for him. By now, his demeanor troubled me, and made my nerves worse.

By the time we reached the conference room, the very same room where Hux briefed me the day before, the others were all waiting. All save General Rhidan, whose empty chair at the head of the table seemed like a deliberate insult, judging by Hux's expression. I took the chair next to him, facing away from the window overlooking the hangar. He ignored me, glancing through the meeting agenda as the four other officers present chatted, unconcerned.

Tech Sergeant Rand, a baby-faced mustachioed man and the lowest ranking person present apart from myself, took a seat at the table's holoimager console opposite from Hux and myself and began activating the holoprojectors situated in the center of the oval conference table.

General Rhidan arrived twenty minutes late without explanation or apology, and took his seat at the head of the table. I stifled my curiosity and tried not to stare at him, though it was quite difficult. He was handsome, enough to draw my eye. By his neat salt-and-pepper hair beneath his cap, and the fine lines at the corner of his eyes and in the space between his brows, I placed him anywhere from fifty to sixty years of age. His brows which were dark and severe, were well softened by eyes that squinted as if they perceived the world as humorous. His trimmed beard, white with grey mustache and chin, lent his mouth a serious shape, but as his intelligent green eyes moved to me, his mouth curved into a stately smile. He gave me a small nod in greeting.

I felt myself begin to respond in kind before I realized that Hux was looking at me with a warning in his eyes. He immediately launched into the first item on his agenda.

I wondered if he was still angry with me about our discussion the day before. Surely not. But I couldn't shake the feeling that he was being unduly cross with me. As technical and bureaucratic matters were discussed at length, with Hux doing most of the talking and the others contributing in small ways, General Rhidan sat in silence and listened. If prompted for his input, he simply gestured for the speaker to continue. Before long, I could tell that this tactic was beginning to wear on Hux as he argued his stance with an increasingly sharp tone.

Impatient, Hux gestured to Tech Sergeant Rand, who entered some commands into his console, bringing up a three-dimensional schematic of Starkiller Base. The glowing blue image was quite large, and as the lights of the room dimmed around us, I found myself dazzled by it. The image zoomed, and the general structure of the Superweapon was highlighted. Hux rose to his feet, one hand behind his back as he spoke, but my attention wandered.

With the lights dimmed, I felt less exposed, safer. The officers were each focused on what Hux was saying, or glancing to the flimsi documents on the table before them. But not all were occupied by the topic of the meeting. As Hux gave detailed accounts of resources and labor that were already devoted to the Superweapon's construction, I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched. I glanced up to the seat at the head of the table and caught General Rhidan's eyes flicker from me back to the holoimage. Despite myself, I felt a slight flush rise to my cheeks, and I didn't look away from him. When he met my eyes again, the humor lines at the corner of his lids deepened and my flush grew.

I was so distracted by this involuntary reaction to his attention that I nearly missed when Hux asked me a question. He'd called me by my false name.

"Forgive me, Lieutenant General, could you repeat that?"

When faced with his impatient expression, I felt the heat creep higher into my cheeks.

"You've read my proposal, Advisor Teraah. Perhaps you can provide us insight from a fresh perspective. How would you advise us to go forward?"

My eyes widened, moved to all present. Every face, drenched in the reflected blue light of the holoimage, was turned toward me. The image of the base and the weapon's substructure down to the core rotated slowly, but it told me nothing.

How could he ask me something like this? He knew damn well that I was no tech, nor involved in this process whatsoever. How could he make me speak in front of these men? Was he deliberately trying to humiliate me? His face gave no indication of his intentions, nor any emotion at all but for the narrowing of his eyes.

They were waiting. My heart began to race.

"I'm not sure," I said, forcing my voice to cooperate, to not stutter. I swallowed the dryness of my throat, but the muscles seemed to tighten of their own accord, nearly choking me. As I scrambled to figure out what to say next, Hux cleared his throat.

"Do you have _nothing_ to add to the discussion you've been observing for the last two hours?"

"Add?" I asked. My eyes darted around the room. My hands felt cold, and I clenched them under the table on my lap to warm them, wiped my clammy palms on my thighs. "Sir, I don't think I'm really qualified to offer an opinion on technical matters like this. My background isn't in this area."

Hux scoffed.

"You may not be a solar array technician but you can answer a simple question, can you not?" he asked with sudden venom before turning back to the rotating model. "Even a child can see that with the current climate of the galactic governance, hesitation shows weakness. Defeat the biggest bully in the school yard, and all others will fall in line. It would serve you well to pay attention, Advisor."

I heard a small sound of derision come from somewhere else at the table, but I didn't dare look to see who it was. I dropped my eyes, mortified and stunned. After a moment of silence that stretched, Hux turned his attention away from me and resumed as though nothing had happened.

The meeting proceeded. Others spoke up, but Rhidan continued to say little. Now when he looked at me, I kept my eyes firmly on the table, and the unreadable flimsiplast sheets spread before me.

The next length of time seemed to drag, even as conversation picked up. With every passing moment, I felt as though I wanted to shrink and disappear. Belatedly, I realized that Hux's analogy of children and school yard bullies was possibly a sly reference to my relatively young age and implied inexperience. Embarrassment and anger roiled low in my stomach.

A brief recess was called. I didn't stay to partake of the hot caf and small refreshments brought to the room by kitchen servers in neat white uniforms, even though I was hungry. Instead, I took the chance to leave the suffocating room. I followed the indicators which led to this level's entrance to the hangar, and the moment I stepped into the vast open space, I took a breath and leaned against the back wall.

Techs and pilots passed me by without notice on the wide walkway, unconcerned by the lack of railing between them and the fathomless drop over the edge. My eyes trailed along the lights on the far side, stretching vertically into eternity in both directions, until I felt dizzied by the sight and closed them.

Wild thoughts, of simply walking away and never returning flashed through my head. I could stuff my uniform down a garbage chute and hide. A base this size had plenty of hidden places. If I found a way to feed and clothe myself, I could stay hidden for months.

Or, I could throw myself over the edge now and save myself the trouble of living like an animal in the bowels of Starkiller Base. That grim thought lingered longer than I would have liked, but the fact was, Hux's behavior brought a bevvy of insecurities to the forefront of my mind.

My contract with him provided little comfort now. My attempt to protect myself behind the regulatory systems to which Hux was so adherent fell short when he pointed out how informal our relations were. I wondered what game he was playing. Or was that the wrong question? Perhaps his behavior was sign that he was no longer playing any game. Perhaps he had realized his mistake by lifting me from the slave rabble.

A creeping fear began to take root, and I had to force myself to breathe.

Someone stepped out onto the walkway with me. At first, I didn't think anything of it. Personnel came and went often and paid me no mind as they went about their business. But when they didn't leave, I glanced over.

"General Rhidan," I gasped, snapping into a straight-backed posture. I stood away from the wall and did a metal check to re-establish the barriers that had, for just a moment, slipped.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked.

The man was solid as a tree and trim in his uniform, an impressive sight now that I saw him in full. Even with his stately appearance, his manner was relaxed, far more than mine.

"Not at all, General."

H nodded and leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, completely at ease as he watched the hangar techs move about on the other side. He did look over to me, but as the occurrences within the meeting came back to me, I wanted nothing more than to disappear. What must he think of me? If Hux intended for me to gain Rhidan's interest, he'd likely done me great harm.

"That room was starting to feel rather stifling," he said with a mischievous smirk. I might have stared at him openly before I caught myself and looked away, my embarrassment fresh again. I straightened the cuffs of my sleeves, thinking to leave the General alone.

"I suppose I should take this time to look through the notes," I said, folding my hands in front of myself to still their fidgeting. I hated the way the heat was starting to creep up my neck again. With a slight nod, I made to leave.

"The Lieutenant General should not have spoken to you in such a harsh manner," Rhidan said, stopping me mid-step with a raised hand. My eyes fell to his shoes, an involuntary reaction to the candid statement. "His behavior was unbecoming of a ranking officer."

"I should have been better prepared."

Rhidan clasped his hands behind his back and regarded me.

"I suspect no preparation could have appeased him."

"Sir?" I said, not sure how I should respond. On the subject of Hux, I was at a loss for what was appropriate for me to say. Yet I didn't want to argue with Rhidan.

"Armitage Hux is a great officer," he said with surprising sincerity. I had never heard Hux's first name before. It seemed strange to me that he even had a first name, but Amon Rhidan spoke of him with great familiarity. "His career has been exemplary. A model of First Order values, to be sure. He has advanced quickly, however. As such, he is afflicted with the impatience of a young man. You should not take his words personally."

Part of me appreciated even this gentle criticism of Hux. The other part feared what he would do if he learned of the candid conversation about him. Didn't he want me to become close to Rhidan? But after his behavior, I couldn't be sure what he wanted anymore.

"I am lucky to have his endorsement. " I said, choosing the safer response.

"Yes, to be chosen by a ranking officer is an honor, even for the most weathered advisor. Your instructors at Luan Academy must consider you one of their successes."

It took me a moment to realize that he was referencing Sindal Teraah's history.

"You've seen my file," I stated, my heart in my throat as I tried to stay calm. He was sharp. He nodded.

"I like to be well-informed," he said, neutrally, even as his green eyes took measure of me.

"I just consider myself fortunate for the opportunity I've been given. I've always wanted to serve the First Order."

"We need more like you. Young blood, to keep old men like me on our toes," he smiled. I smiled back, puzzling over the strange flutter in my stomach.

"To be honest with you, Sir, I've never felt young," I said. It was the first honest thing I'd said to him, and he seemed to take it with appropriate gravitas.

"Your parents," he supplied. "The war."

I nodded, my mind racing to recall the details of my backstory. Sindal Teraah was an orphan and an only child, a measure taken to avoid any complications if someone were to investigate my connections. I could relate, though I would have to remember how a normal person might be affected by this. I couldn't remember having parents. I knew nothing outside of being alone, and I was just fine with it. Sindal, however, still missed them.

A pair of Stormtrooper patrols greeted Rhidan as they passed.

"You fought the Rebellion as well," I said, changing the subject. Rhidan seemed surprised. I continued after giving him a moment. "I like to be informed as well, Sir."

Now he flashed his straight, even teeth as he chuckled. The flutter in my belly intensified. He was a very good-looking man, I thought to myself as I took in the sight of him. With some apprehension, I recalled that this was exactly what Hux had wanted. I had no desire to please him, but I was starting to realize that I liked General Amon Rhidan anyway.

"That was a long time ago," he said. His eyes moved over my face and lingered on my lips for only a second. "I daresay, I miss the action. Give me a tumbler of Corellian brandy, and I may tell you about it some time."

My humor was dimmed when I remembered that I would have to return to that room. As if sensing my change, Rhidan cleared his throat.

"If I might offer a suggestion, Miss Teraah," he started.

"Please," I replied, forcing my eyes to meet his, fighting my years of training to do so.

"Speak your mind. You were assigned to this base for a reason. The Lieutenant General may be lacking in social niceties, but he is no fool. Dissent fosters innovation."

I smirked. I suspected that this wasn't what Hux wanted. That was enough to give me renewed confidence.

As much as I had enjoyed speaking to Rhidan, the recess was over too soon. Somehow, I'd lost track of the time. The General escorted me back to the meeting room. When we entered together, Hux was speaking in a low voice to a corporal, but he stopped when he saw us.

I couldn't easily read the expression on his face, but it struck me as irritated. I returned to my seat, my back a little straighter, and when Rhidan took his place at the head of the table, the meeting recommenced.

I was ready to do as Rhidan suggested. If Hux called on me again, I was determined not to make a fool of myself. But as it stretched on, he said not a word to me, nor did he even spare me a glance. Rhidan spoke up more, though. It seemed that his silence in the first half was due to careful calculation. For every point that Hux, or the other officers made, Rhidan had a quick response that was difficult to argue with. His concerns centered around a weakness, some kind of thermal regulation oscillator that was tied with energy containment. I didn't understand much, but I knew enough of human body language and subtle voice inflection to see that Hux's careful patience was nearing its end. And so was the meeting.

As Hux prepared his closing remarks, I caught General Rhidan looking at me as though deciding something.

"Advisor Teraah," he said, startling me. "Now that you've witnessed both sides of this matter, I'm curious to know what you think," he said, his green eyes kind.

I squared my jaw, even as the sound of Hux's scoff beside me made the flush rise to my cheeks. Once more, I found myself the subject of the room's attention. I could see the looks on some of their faces. I focused instead on Rhidan, who nodded to me with encouragement. What was I to say? I thought of Hux's anger, and I faltered.

"I'm grateful for the opportunity to observe such a vital debate," I started, swallowing the dryness from my throat. I could feel my heart hammering, and my hands were already beginning to sweat. I clasped them on my lap, my eyes moving about the room. "It must be said that I respect the stances of you, Sir, as well as Lieutenant General and the other officers present. Both caution and action have their merits. It's difficult to say that one is better than the other."

"Oh come now, Sindal," Hux said with an audible sneer. "Don't mince words. Tell us what you really think."

His use of my first name was a deliberate show of disrespect in the context, and despite my outward calm, I felt the heat begin to prickle in my chest. I took a deep breath and met Hux's cold eyes without flinching.

"I think that aggression without temperance sets a dangerous precedent," I said to him, marveling for how steady my voice was in my anger. "As does underestimating the strength of the Resistance. The Republic may be oblivious to us now, but one misstep will bring them, and their Resistance, to our door."

Hux seemed temporarily at a loss for words. It was Corporal Gentry, a short man with a paunch who spoke up.

"Starkiller Base is impregnable," he said sharply, though his tone bore none of the derision that Hux's had. He stroked his beard, which was clipped close enough that it looked drawn on. "Our defenses are sound, no ship can breach our shields, as has been stated."

I glanced to Rhidan. He sat back in his chair, a pleased smile upon his face. I looked to the model of Starkiller which still hovered over the table, and gestured to the area around the superweapon's eye.

"I'm no tech, but I know that every machine has moving parts. The more there are, the higher the chance that one will fail." I remembered the sewage sweepers, and how easily their smaller gears could jam if contaminants managed to find their way in. "The failsafes that General Rhidan has proposed are conservative enough. If I understand correctly, construction on them has already begun. Completing even those basic protections would delay completion only minorly. I must support the use of prudence in this case."

A quick glance showed me that Hux's face had settled into a hard mask. Unreadable but for the dangerous glint in his eyes. The rest of the room was silent for a moment, except for the faint sound of the holoprojectors working.

"Perhaps your advisor is wiser than you give her credit for, Lieutenant General," Rhidan said. Hux nodded and offered a tight-lipped smile, remarkable for how it lacked in any kindness.

"I can see that I chose her well," he said carefully before looking at me with the same tense smile. "Thank you, Advisor Teraah, for your input."

As the finishing remarks commenced, I felt the shock creeping in from what I'd just done and said, but I couldn't help but feel some measure of triumph as well. I'd spoken up, and not only had my opinion been taken seriously, but I'd managed to show Hux that I would not take his venom with passivity.

The meeting was disbanded soon after. Hux didn't even look at me as he walked out of the conference room, but I could almost feel the anger radiating from him and had no doubt that I would be hearing of it later. I deal with it then.

I lingered in the meeting room to watch the hangar through the window. I considered that perhaps I should plan for a contingency whereupon I could no longer rely on my arrangement with Hux to protect myself. It was not something I wanted to consider, but based on his recent behavior, the possibility seemed nearer than I would have liked.

I watched as the techs performed maintenance on fuel lines, but when I heard someone moving about in the room behind me, I suspected I might know who it was.

"Advisor Teraah, I was most impressed by your statement. I sincerely hope I didn't cause you undue stress by calling on you as I did."

I turned to face General Rhidan. Behind him, officers and soldiers moved about past the open door to the hall. An older woman in a Lieutenant's uniform was waiting patiently by the door for him, scrolling through the information on her datapad.

I looked down, feeling shy, though I couldn't explain why.

"I want you to understand that, while your advice gave me courage, my thoughts were my own."

Rhidan nodded and clasped his hands behind his back.

"I would have it no other way."

He stood there for a moment longer. I could tell that there was something else that he wanted to say. In fact, it was the first time I had seen him act uncertain. Curious, I turned to him fully.

"General, is there something I can do for you?"

He cleared his throat.

"Advisor Teraah," he started.

"Please, General. Call me Sindal."

"Only if you address me as Amon," he said, returning my smile. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Sindal, I admit that I find you most refreshing. I hope that I have the opportunity to share your company in future meetings. You certainly livened up what would have otherwise been a dull and tedious affair."

I laughed, surprising even myself.

"Likewise… Amon." I looked down, fighting the blush rising to my face before meeting his eyes again. They were fixed on me unwaveringly. "Perhaps I will take you up on that offer of a drink and a story."

Rhidan chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, a charmingly boyish gesture of bashfulness. My stomach fluttered again. What was I doing? Flirting with a General?

"I am happy to oblige you, though you may come to regret it. I've been told I can put even the liveliest of souls to sleep once I get started."

We shared a good-natured chuckle. He bowed his head, and with that, he left alongside the female lieutenant.

After the meeting, I fully intended to make up for the previous night's restlessness and take a small nap. No sooner had I entered my quarters that I received a message on my datapad.

It was from Hux. I tossed the datapad on a chair without looking at it and went into my refresher to wash my face. I ordered food, but as I waited for it to arrive, my eyes kept straying to the datapad, its message notification light blinking.

Unable to assuage my curiosity any longer, I opened it to see what he had to say. The message was simple.

'Advisor, please meet me in mid-tier cantina 7A in an hour, if you care to. I suspect we have some things to discuss.

H.'

My initial reaction was to scoff and close the message. If he thought I had any interest in seeing him after what he pulled, he was delusional. What was he thinking? There had to be another layer to this.

Everything about this situation was strange to me. No matter how I tried, I couldn't picture Hux patronizing a cantina, let alone one where the lower ranking officers went for post-shift drinks.

His sudden change in behavior made me feel uneasy. The more I got to know Lieutenant General Hux, the less I felt I understood him. But there was one thing of which I was certain: he had a reputation to protect. Perhaps he hoped that I would not retaliate in a public place. And perhaps he would be right to think so. Of course, that protection went both ways, he had to realize; if he were to act unseemly in front of other personnel, it could have long-reaching ill effects for him.

I couldn't say what it was that motivated me to change my mind. Desire to know the nature of his purpose, the chance to speak my mind where I might be safe to do so, perhaps even a measure of curiosity to see him outside of his duty and his quarters.

So, I began to go through my small in-built clothing locker. Acquiring new clothes was now as easy as finding a pattern in the database and having it sent to me. My commission, whatever it was, was more than I'd ever be able to spend, and without a real concept or care for financial matters, I didn't worry about it. I didn't have many in my wardrobe yet, but I had thought to find something casual to wear out of uniform.

I didn't want to call undue attention to myself necessarily, but I also wanted to look appealing. I took my time fixing my hair in an up-do that exposed my neck in an attractive way, and applied eye-enhancing cosmetics.

Before my refresher's mirror, I chose clothing that seemed to suit me: fitted black trousers tucked into synth-velvet ankle boots, a simple white long-sleeved shirt, and a long, sleeveless grey sweater that draped on my over-tall body like liquid. It was enough to ward away the pervasive chill of Starkiller Base's halls without obscuring my figure. Instead of my usual veil, I wore a loose hooded neck wrap and arranged it so that it obscured my nose and mouth. With the cosmetics, in colors that complimented the brown and grey of my eyes, and the neck wrap, I almost didn't recognize myself.

No one would think my appearance strange outside of the military sections. I looked like a civilian. Perhaps even someone important.

I felt confident by the time I strolled out of my quarters half an hour later than he'd proposed. Somehow, within the safety of my attire, I didn't even mind that I caught a few lingering looks as I passed.

The mid-tier officer's cantina was busy. Privates and petty officers mingled with second lieutenants and other enlisted personnel at the lower end of the pay grade. A few non-military personnel entertained or served drinks, or caroused. The atmosphere of scented t'bac smoke clung to the ceiling in a faint white haze that blurred the dim, indirect lighting and made my eyes water.

I felt like I was infiltrating a restricted area. There were no slaves here, just non-military workers and service droids. I had to remind myself that I was allowed to be here now as I weaved through the drinkers and smokers.

My eyes found Hux immediately, though it took me a moment to realize that the man at the booth by himself was who I was looking for. Hux lounged back with one leg propped against the edge of the table. An arm rested on the back of the seat, and held loosely between his gloved fingers was a t'bac stick, its thin ribbon of smoke adding to the haze above us. His other hand, resting atop his propped knee, clutched a glass tumbler of amber liquid.

He was watching the personnel at the bar and didn't see me until I slipped into the chair opposite him. When our eyes met, he took a small drag and let the smoke seep out of his mouth like water falling upward.

"Advisor," he said, tapping the stick into the ash tray on the table. He looked tired. "Can I offer you a drink?"

I glanced at the glass in his hand.

"I'd rather have a clear mind," I said. I'd never had a chance to try alcoholic drinks, but I knew how they affected judgement and inhibitions.

"One drink won't absolve you of reason."

Before I could protest further, he was already waving over a droid.

"A glass of lum for the lady," he said to the bipedal server. It nodded and left for the bar. I stared at him in disbelief. He seemed to lack any of his irritation from earlier. Perhaps the drinks had cured him of his sour temperament.

"What do you want?" I asked. Hux's eyes fell to my mouth. He took a small sip of his drink before meeting my eyes.

"You did well with the General. But there's been a change of plan."

I was taken aback and stared at him as the droid returned with a tall bluish-green cocktail in a frosty glass. He didn't seem to notice my look of disbelief.

"What change of plan?"

His eyes moved around the room. Music was coming from somewhere in the cantina. Personnel with their uniforms loosened or undone began to dance. Slurred male voices began to sing at the bar. In a way, the activity of the cantina around us formed a pocket of privacy at our corner table.

"You may cease your pursuit of the General's favor," he said. "I've decided to put that initiative on hold for now."

I couldn't believe it.

"How many of those have you had?" I asked, nodding to the drink in his hand. He didn't respond immediately, deigning instead to down the rest of it before setting the glass on the table with a heavy thunk. He seemed to be in full control of himself, but the narrowing of his eyes seemed more due to a lack of focus than anger.

"Drink with me, Advisor. It's what normal people do when they meet in a cantina. They have a drink. Discuss work. Socialize."

I didn't touch the cocktail, as tempting as it looked. The room was hot, and the air heavy with smoke and the smell of spilled beer. I loosened the neck wrap, pulled it down as I looked around us. Hux's eyes trailed over my face, his lips parted in barely concealed attraction.

"You want to discuss the meeting today?" I said as anger tugged at me, prickled my chest.

"I trust you gained some new insight as to your position. I expect you will be attending many more like today, if you are fortunate. It will make your position more… convincing."

"If anything, my position is more tenuous now than it was before. Was it your intention to make me look like a fool in front of everyone?"

Hux's brows knitted briefly before smoothing. He took a long, slow drag from his t'bac stick and tapped it into the ash tray before responding.

"I treated you no differently than I would any other contractor fresh out of Academy. Stakes are high. I can't afford to have you at my side if you can't play the part. Think on your feet. And it seems that you did, to perfection."

My irritation, and the atmosphere, which seemed to be getting warmer by the minute, made me thirsty. I decided to try the lum. It was tart on first taste, but hit the back of my tongue with a pleasing sweetness. It burned my throat.

"My argument pleased you?"

He shrugged one shoulder and glanced around the cantina again. "It was convincing enough. But perhaps a less combative stance would be better next time. Overt antipathy can be as suspicious as constant compliance."

The same server droid returned to our table and Hux agreed to a refill with very little encouragement.

"I meant everything I said," I told him, leaning forward. Feeling overly warm, I tugged the neck wrap from around my neck and set it atop the sticky table in a pile, ignoring how Hux's eyes were drawn to my neck and the small hint of collarbone showing above my shirt.

"You can drop the act, Ria-" Hux cut himself off, looked around to see if any had heard, before amending "Advisor Teraah."

I scoffed. "You wanted me to gain his favor. I admit that I had no intention of doing so. But it turns out that the General is a good man. And your dislike of him only makes him more appealing."

Hux snatched the drink from the server droid before sneering at me. His propped foot dropped to the floor and he sat forward.

"And so you will ignore my wishes and pursue him out of spite? I must inform you that you waste your time. I don't care what you do, or who you sleep with, as long as you perform your function as my advisor."

He took a sip, but his movements were tenser. My wrath flared and I closed my eyes against it, trying to let the feeling of the drink soothe it. It was helping. It would do me no good to attack him in public. When I opened my eyes, Hux was grinding the butt of his t'bac stick into the tray. A heavy vanilla scent rose with the waning smoke.

"Would it be so surprising to you if my interest in him were real?" I asked, swirling the straw in the half-full cocktail in front of me.

Hux laughed derisively.

"You are too ambitious. I know what men like him want. To him, you're nothing more than a girl to warm his bed and remind him of his youth. Once he is done with you, you'll be discarded. You'll find no advancement through him. None that I can't give you."

I clenched my teeth until they hurt. And then I finished my drink. I felt braver. I could see through his ruse and his stiff, swaggering airs for the petty, overconfident man that he was. I knew how small he was without his uniform, how much of a slave he was to his own flesh and blood as anyone else, despite his arrogance.

"You're jealous," I stated, taking his full measure with my eyes and finding him lacking. Stunned, his mouth tightened as he looked at me. But I saw how his eyes flickered away from mine, the subtle tell of uncertainty. I knew then that I was right. "You can't stand the thought of me being with him, a better man than you'll ever be."

Hux pushed himself over the table as though he meant to snap, eyes flashing, before he remembered that we were in a public place and settled back into his seat. He held his glass, swirling the liquid around inside of it without breaking his stare.

"I was wrong to try and use you against him. There are other, easier ways of getting what I want. And I _will_ get it, with or without your assistance." He looked down to his drink, a contemplative expression overtaking his ire. At some point, my drink had been replaced, though I hadn't noticed. I began to sip, desiring more of the way it softened everything around the edges. "Understand me, Advisor. I only want what's best for the Order. That is all I've _ever_ wanted. You may think me callous, or heartless," he began.

"Inhuman, I think, was the word I used," I cut in. Hux sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking off to the side where a boisterous table of ensigns was participating in a loud drinking game.

"I am the way I am out of necessity. I have made many sacrifices to get here, devoted my entire life to the Supreme Leader's ideals. Often at the cost of personal gratification." His eyes moved up to me, but the heat was gone. The whites had taken on a glossy, reddish tint. I wondered how many drinks he'd had before I arrived.

"That explains a lot."

"Do you know why I chose you?" he asked. I was unnerved by the candid way he met my eyes, and the nature of the question. Someone jostled into the back of my chair and nearly caused me to spill my drink. They slurred an apology before a friend helped them stumble back to the bar.

"Because I attacked you?"

He snorted and tipped his tumbler back, swallowing its contents with a faint gasp.

"Because you _understand_. You seem to possess the innate ability to read people, see through them. Whether this was granted to you somehow by the Force, I can't say. You were being wasted. A fount of untapped potential, limited only by the circumstances of your birth."

I couldn't deny that I was flattered by his words, but I couldn't forget the way he'd treated me, and all the ways he'd caught me off guard, or always seemed to be a step ahead. I could see nothing in his behavior to suggest that he was lying right now, though. Perhaps the drink had been a good idea after all.

"You speak so highly now. Yet when before your superior and your peers, you chose instead to insult me. Humiliate me. If this is how you choose to show your admiration, without witnesses, you may keep it to yourself. It's worth nothing to me."

The words came to me easily. Perhaps too easily. But I took immense satisfaction in the way that Hux's eyes widened, darted about in search for eavesdroppers. He leaned forward further, resting his forearm on the table.

"Must I profess my affection for you in public, then? Shall I have a notary log the occasion in the official records? Or perhaps you would have me announce it to the drunk rabble in this cantina. Would that please you? _Sir?_ " he hissed.

If he'd meant to provoke me, he'd failed. Instead, I found my focus shifting to the way his mouth moved when he called me Sir. The simmering heat of my anger with him began to grow, but it also began to sink lower in my belly.

"Nothing so artless, Armitage," I replied, giving him a slow smile. His jaw tightened when he heard me say his name, and I felt that I'd gained another small victory. I could thank Rhidan for that one. I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair. I didn't like him. But I wanted him. And I knew he wanted me. That was enough. "But perhaps you should bear in mind how cruel I was to you last time. And how much crueler I can be."

Hux's eyes narrowed with apprehension, but his hand tightened atop the table and he maintained his position leaning toward me.

"I don't doubt it. But I also place a lot of trust in your judgement and self-control."

I felt the power collecting inside of me, residual emotional energy from the day's stress as well as fresher feelings of spite and desire, and I willed it to gather in my hands until my palms itched with the potential power of the Force.

"Perhaps it's not my self-control you should be worried about," I said with a wicked grin. And then, with the flick of my wrist under the table, I sent a bolt of pure sexual want into him. His torso buckled, just slightly, and he exhaled in a short gasp. His hand tightened into a fist and he clenched his eyes shut.

"Advisor," he grated through his teeth once the sensation had passed. "This isn't the place. Or the time."

My smile didn't leave me. I breathed deep, savoring the stirrings of Force energy inside of me, feeling the strength grow.

"I think it's the perfect time to teach you a lesson in etiquette," I retorted, taking a sip of my drink. Another bolt of specific energy made him shudder, tighten his fist until I heard the creak of leather. His cheeks, already flush from drink, were darkening. His eyes, when they were open, shone, and he breathed through his parted lips as though the effort to maintain his composure was taking everything he had.

"Your point is made. I will endeavor to-" his words choked into a strangled groan. I bit my lip as I watched him struggle to remain calm. The heath gathering between my legs spread and I pressed my thighs together tightly to quell it. "I will show you the respect you deserve."

"Good boy," I whispered, finding that the way my heart pounded with the nearness of potential observers was most pleasing. Hux's eyes were closed now, and his gripped the edge of the table with both hands. I suspected that his trousers were feeling uncomfortably tight by now.

I downed the rest of my drink, stood to my feet, and left just as another drunk patron slid into my seat.

"Lieutenant General Hux," I heard the man slur as I reached the door. "Kin I buy yer a drink?"

I didn't hear his response, but I could imagine his state. My step was lighter on the walk back to my quarters.


	12. Joy's Fragile Warmth

Over the next two weeks, my life as Advisor Sindal Teraah settled into something like a routine. Day to day, I attended meetings or whatever suitable duties that Hux could devise for me, and once a week, he called me to his quarters to provide for him the only release he had from the stresses of his station, or whatever it was that made him crave pain and debasement. I had performed my duty admirably, despite the growing loathing I felt for Hux.

And, I thought it should be noted that, despite finding myself in more than one convenient situation due to the nature of our power play, I did not murder Hux when he was submitting to me. The thought had occurred to me, and I'd almost come close when I'd accidentally made him lose consciousness after a simultaneously explosive dose of pleasure and pain while gagged and bound. The anger and discontentment I felt around him had started to affect my ability to control my wrath, and the panic I felt when I thought I'd killed him matched no other. Luckily, he came to within minutes, and I woke to me lovingly stroking his hair with his head on my lap, and he was none the wiser. He did suggest, afterward, that we take it down a level because he wanted to be able to remember everything that I did to him.

On the other hand, I and General Rhidan, or Amon as he wanted me to call him outside of duty hours, had seen each other on two separate occasions. Both had taken place in semi-public places, something which surprised me. The night after our first meeting, I went to my quarters to dig around in the database for information about the man's history, though the quality of my findings was largely limited by my security clearance level; I recognized that there was probably much more that I simply could not see as non-military personnel.

When I saw Amon Rhidan the first night, it seemed that my initial impression of the man was fairly accurate; he was a gentleman, and despite the fact that almost every thing that I told him about myself or my history was a complete lie, he was quite pleasant to chat with. I learned from him that he was high born, from a wealthy and influential family on one of the Imperial colony worlds. Amon Rhidan was well-educated, and by grace of his upbringing he was well-versed in etiquette. I had been trained from childhood to have at least a basic understanding of formal behavior, but only within my role as a slave or servant, so more than once I found myself at a loss for the correct response to something he did or said. It didn't seem to bother him, but he did tell me that he found my 'candid nature' charming. The second meeting, also in the elite officer commissary bar, was even more relaxed and pleasant. I found myself laughing earnestly, such an alien sensation, and I was utterly drawn in by his stories. He'd seen many things throughout his career, as one might imagine, and I found that time seemed to fly by as he described with great gusto his many mishaps and adventures. I did not miss the fact that most of the adventures occurred long ago, when he was a young man in the Imperial Armed Forces, but I spared it no extra thought. Age was not an issue to me, and I found, upon reflection, that sex with him would not be an issue either, if it ever came to that. Whatever he looked like and however he performed, I was prepared to deal with it.

However, thus far, apart from some polite flirtations and gracefully inserted compliments, we hadn't even come close to broaching the topic. The general was so polite, and gracious, it was almost difficult to tell that he was interested at all without observing subtle signals, and despite all my investigation into him, I found nothing that could inform me as to the correct way of making it clear that I was willing to commit myself to him without being distasteful. Was this how free people behaved when they were attracted to one another, by withholding that attraction and caging it?

It was such a contrast to everything I'd ever known before, and as blithely as Rhidan spoke of a way of life that was incomprehensible to me, I wondered how he would react if I were to tell him about my upbringing under the strict care of the slave wardens; wardens such as the one who named me Riala for the R in my designation. When I turned twelve, I was taken from childhood conditioning routines and simple duties and placed in the adult group where I learned what would be expected of me as a female. Every interaction with the people I'd served since was with the understanding that my body existed for the use and needs of others. While I'd been luckier than most, avoiding rape and molestation until at least my first night of active duty, I knew about it. Rhidan was incapable of such things, though. I had no doubt in my mind. I could not read thoughts, something I thought I remembered hearing as tied to the Force, but I had become fairly astute at reading body language and I had always been able to accurately interpreting verbal signals, simply from need. When you can never look someone in the face, you learn to hear the expression in their voices and words as clear as a smile or a frown.

When we met in private, Hux expressed that he was pleased with my progress. I mentioned the general's apparent reluctance to move things to a more intimate stage, but Hux had told me simply to be patient. The general tended to do things in his own time, another mark against him, apparently. To me, there was much more meaning behind our rapport than mere intercourse could provide. Something that I doubted Hux would understand.

Tonight, however, something was different. Amon Rhidan sent me a message the previous day, inviting me to his personal observation deck on this evening, a place that was not as private as his quarters. I suspected that we would be alone nonetheless, and took this to mean good things.

In my preparations, I visited the same clothier droids to plan what I would wear for this evening. Until now, I had worn my uniform not knowing that outside of duty, officers and personnel generally dressed down in a more comfortable and flattering way. Rhidan wore his uniform, but his way of dressing down in the officer's commissary and bar was to remove his jacket. I felt that tonight, I would need to be more elegant and appealing, in case he ever had any doubt as to my desirability.

I chose to wear something that revealed tantalizing hints of flesh, like subtle breadcrumbs leading to libidinous thoughts. One aspect of being a free woman, I felt, meant that I now had the choice to portray myself however I wished. Tonight, I wanted the General to look upon me with a little more than his customary kindness and respect. I had managed to maintain my history without contradiction thus far, and every time I included some new detail, I made a note of it in my personal log within my quarters later to help me keep my story straight.

I looked myself over in the mirror once more to examine my clothing from multiple angles and try to recognize that the woman I saw reflected on the pane of glass was myself; I did not recognize her. I chose to wear red and black silk, form-fitting, and stopping just above the knees. I knew the color would stand out in the black and white world beneath the surface of StarKiller Base, and the fabric draped across the contours of my body in a soft and feminine sort of way, trying to find the right balance between aggressive and receptive.

Last, I coiled my long braid up and around my head and, still wary of being recognized after the meeting with Armata, I chose a soft, sheer red veil to cover the lower part of my face. After wearing a veil for three weeks now, I had grown very comfortable with the security of obscuring my face while walking through the halls. After all, a great majority of the Order's personnel wore some kind of face covering, such as the various and sundry stormtroopers that patrolled the base, and I felt much better knowing that my entire face was not plainly visible either.

I turned to leave the clothiers, but a flash of reflected light drew my eye back to the mirror. My necklace. Absently I caressed the chrome bar which sat in the hollow of my throat against my pulse, where it had stayed since the first time I'd worn it. The metal was warmed to my body temperature, and for a moment, my thoughts entirely transported me from the room I was in, to a soft deep bed, upon a red coverlet and the firm, warm body that accompanied me in such reveries. My heart ached when I thought of her. Somehow, over the last three weeks, I had not seen her, but she was always there. With access to the database, I had discovered that Captain Phasma, a woman whose presence and mystery had pulled me to her, was a soldier through and through. She'd led many successful charges against the enemy, not one to stand back in combat from what I could tell in her public records, and she'd risen through the ranks from the very bottom. Almost every promotion was preceded by her participation in campaign-deciding battles, during which I could only imagine she repeatedly showed her combat abilities and strategic prowess. For a captain, her medals and prestige were quite respectable. Of course, after I found out more about her, I wished I hadn't. It was much easier to try and distance my thoughts from her if I imagined that the captain was capable of cruelties and machinations like Hux, but everything I'd found on her indicated otherwise, and now I was unable to think of her as something other than a noble woman knight that treated slaves and servants with basic dignity usually not afforded to them. My heart hurt to think that I might never be with her again.

Still, I thought, blinking away the feelings that threatened to distract me, if I couldn't be with her, General Rhidan was the only other that I felt came close to how she made me feel. I allowed myself a moment to regain my composure, re-compartmentalize my feelings, and prepare myself for Amon's company. It was time.

My path to the General's observation room took me through more unfamiliar halls. I'd made sure to study the layout of Starkiller Base, or at least the military sector, in my idle time, so I knew where to go. There were two paths that would take me to my destination. One was more direct, but it saw much traffic, a pedestrian thoroughfare that led to many other locations, and while Rhidan had not indicated that we were to keep our non-professional relationship private, I was non-military and outside the rules against fraternization with subordinates after all, I still felt the need for discretion. The less scrutiny I drew to myself, the better. The other route, which I chose, took me along a very quiet and apparently little-used part of the base. Before long, I found myself walking down black, glass-like halls lit with muted ambient ceiling lighting. Any that I saw were too distracted by their destinations to pay me any heed, and I wondered if this area was restricted in any way not indicated by the directory. None had stopped me, or asked for my identification, but something about those halls felt... heavy. Wrong somehow.

As I walked, I slowly became aware of a growing sensation along my scalp. Like the pricking of invisible needles, almost exactly as it felt to have a limb fall asleep due to interrupted circulation. Telling myself that I didn't want to keep Rhidan waiting, I picked up my pace, the only sound the cut of my boots against the hard floor as it echoed around the black walls and high ceilings. I was sure of it, now, I was not supposed to be in this part of the base. What had the map said was located here? I thought about the way the map of this level had been laid out. I was sure that it had indicated mostly empty space, and as the base had, after all, been built around and within the structure of a planet, I was sure that at least some of the original bedrock remained. I had assumed that this hall was built as an alternate route to reach other places, but as I passed walls broken by large, widely spaced doors, closed and with a security access panel I'd never seen before, I knew that the map was wrong.

My disquiet had started to form a small ball in the base of my gut, and I recognized the growing well of my power immediately, though I was surprised at my reaction. I walked on, and after multiple turns, the feeling of dread receded, and I heard the sounds normal activity ahead of me. That strange, dark area disappeared behind me and I re-entered what I thought of as the normal part of the base. My thoughts were back on Amon Rhidan, and I noticed that my heart pounded. I attributed it to anticipation.

I was greeted by the sight two elite guards, fully obscured under the nearly featureless white masks and cloaks, standing on either side of the door with phaser staves in their white gloved hands, and I knew I had reached my destination. The guard to the left bowed slightly.

"Advisor Teraah, the general is expecting you," she said just before the door opened, her voice so distorted by her mask that I almost couldn't tell that she was female. In uniform, they were both of identical height and build, and I let my sense of unease slip away as I nodded back and entered.

The room was small and mostly dark, comprised of a small lounge area and a bar. The wall behind the bar was illuminated in slowly transitioning shades of blue and purple, and to the left was the column of an enclosed capsule lift. My eyes were not draw to that, however, much more interesting to me was the sight of General Amon Rhidan, his broad back facing away from me toward the bar, his hands clasped lightly behind his back. The man knew how to dress. He had chosen to wear a casual jacket in a deep shade of maroon, cut to his figure with superb attention to his solid, straight lines. Around the cuffs peeked a cream longshirt, which tucked into his pants.

When he turned around, the smile that warmed my face and reached my eyes was so real that when I realized I was doing it, I balked to raise my guard again. The general showed his privileged upbringing in how well he dressed himself, and in how he managed to look so stately and so at ease at the same time. There was no mistaking him for anyone other than the leader of a military, but he was also a man who knew his best features and, like me, chose to enhance them for this meeting.

"Ms. Teraah, it is a pleasure to see you," he greeted, his voice warm from across the darkly lit room. He walked over to me, commanding the room without a shred of awareness. When I saw the shine in his stormy eyes, which were unwaveringly fixed on my face, I knew that I had chosen my clothing well. For, as polite as Rhidan was, and with what I had learned by observing him closely during conversation, I knew that he would never gawk at an attractive woman, at least not openly. Without breaking eye contact, he took my hand and placed a light, nearly undetectable kiss on the back of my hand. In all its chasteness, it was the most exhilarating skin contact I'd felt in many weeks. It supplanted whatever visceral, base acts which took place between myself and Hux, and to my amazement, I felt a gentle gathering of warmth glow to life deep in my belly, all from that one decorous press of his lips to my hand.

"You look radiant, Sindal," he said, lifting my arm playfully and turning me beneath our crossed fingers so that he could see me from all sides. The warmth grew and spread to my chest, where it became a delicate, glowing point; faint, but steady, and strangely invigorating.

"As do you, Amon, I've never seen such a dashing soldier. Sir, you steal my breath," I replied, laughing, literally breathless as he used the momentum of my little spin to draw me into a ballroom dance step, one hand on mine above, one lighting on my waist, the barest suggestion of a grip touching my side; the fabric of my silk dress sliding frictionlessly over thick fingers and lightly caressing my skin through it. I was unsteady, ignorant in matters of dancing, and being guided effortlessly by him. I couldn't think, I could only feel, react. Suddenly, it was over and I was standing there, smiling at him and the boyish grin on his face as he swept into a half bow.

He was a most gracious host, and when he offered to make me a drink, I accepted as eagerly as was polite, knowing full well that alcohol would only help things go more smoothly, and after some amiable small talk, he requested my accompaniment to the lounge above. My hand was on his arm, he led me inside the black cylindrical lift. As the platform beneath us rose, the walls seemed to fall away around us until we were level with the floor above. I was momentarily speechless as we emerged into a room whose floor was littered with low, comfortable seating, thick, soft carpets, and gentle lighting from the ceiling and the edges of the floor. But what stole my words was the fact that we were surrounded on all sides by an incredible panoramic view of the nighttime surface of Starkiller Base through one continuous, almost invisible pane of glass.

I was barely aware when the General took my hand in his, his face turned toward me, perfectly still, as he watched me gape with bare-faced wonderment at the scenery that stretched out around us; sweeping forests under a blanket of perfect white snow, distant mountain ridges that broke the straight line of the horizon. I had only seen snow once in my life that I could remember, and I vaguely remember it being cold and unpleasant. But up here in Rhidan's observation lounge, the world was an infinite stretch of pristine, glittering wilderness, still and nearly silent where we stood. Above the horizon, black night was banded with a wide rivers of shimmering stars. I saw him turn to look.

"This time of year, the arms of the galaxy shine in full force. With the snow, it makes the night burn bright as day." My fingers involuntarily tightened on his hand as I felt a small wave of dizziness overcome me, as if I would be drawn out into that sparkling, infinite vastness and fall forever. Rhidan's hand responded, grounding me and giving me something firm to hold onto. I turned in a slow, stationary circuit where I stood to see the view in every direction, and I heard him chuckle, an unguarded sound that originated deep in his chest. Behind us lay the enormous stripe that marked the inset equator of Starkiller Base, and even that was a sight to behold as it glowed, faintly yellow, periodically sending tiny ships out to the atmosphere above. When I finally found myself able to tear my eyes away from the sights of the snowy surface, I looked at the general, our eyes met. There was a sudden effusion of the joy I was feeling at that moment, and unable and unwilling to to contain it, it poured out of me like a sieve and it settled over Rhidan like a warm blanket. He blinked as if stunned, but when he refocused, his eyes were shining brightly, almost as if with fever.

From that moment on, I was no longer unsure of myself or whether my designs would come to fruition. Lieutenant General Hux was a distant memory, swept away by the sheer presence of this man who was his better and his commanding officer. After stretches of conversation that we both found it difficult to completely focus on, he finally spoke true, inviting me to step outside the room to the balcony so that he might ask me something. As he deftly removed his jacket and let its heavy warmth sit on my shoulders, I could tell that whatever it was, it was of grave importance, for his manner had changed instantly from charming and easy to stiff, almost uncertain behavior. With a blinding surge of pure elation, I realized what he intended to ask me. My heart beat so strongly within my chest that I could feel it in my throat, pounding a staccato rhythm of my joy. I felt as though my feet did not touch the ground as he guided me through the glass, which parted like a sheet of water in front of us. When he looked at me, I could detect the faintest flush to his chiseled cheeks. His eyes sparkled, alive.

"Sindal, I find that I have not felt this way around another in..." he glanced to the side, trying to find the words. "Many years," he settled on finally. "And what I wish to ask you may draw to a close the most invigorating and enjoyable few weeks of my life on this base. This all depends on your response." I could only listen, stunned as he said this, and when his eyes focused on me, on my mouth, they almost glowed. "I would greatly desire to have you at my side, Sindal, in all things. If you find it in your heart that you can not love me, I will still be warmed by the brief time we shared. You've given an old man new life." I wanted to cut him off, to tell him yes, yes I accept, I will be your wife, or your concubine, or your companion, or whatever it is that you want to call it. Just ask, I begged silently. But he spoke before I could give voice. "However, if you can excuse the unfortunate call to my baser desires, I simply don't think I could live without at least knowing the kiss of your lips on mine. Before you make your decision."

"Just kiss me, Amon," I said, a little rougher than I intended. Beneath the river of stars, warmed by his lingering heat within his jacket, the crisp air on our faces, General Amon Rhidan leaned toward me, and I up to him, my lids sliding down over my eyes as I anticipated the touch of heat between us, savoring this one shining moment to the core of my being.

Our lips touched and there was a sound, like a rushing of air hitting a surface and breaking through. Our lips broke contact. I opened my eyes, puzzlement furrowing my brows, a question in my eyes.

I was met with the sight of Rhidan's handsome face, stunned, skin paper white, but for where it was sprayed with darkly glistening spots, spots which shone red and wet beneath the light of the lounge interior.

His mouth opened and closed, but the only sound that escaped his lips was a wet gurgle. His eyes bulged, staring ahead blindly as a fount of blood poured forth from the hole in his neck, coating us both in its wet heat which quickly became chill in the icy air. I reached out for him woodenly, the strength gone from my limbs as everything moved in slow time. The gorge rose in my throat as his impressive figure tilted backwards and fell to the floor of the balcony, jarring the collected snow off of the railing when his body landed heavily, and so finally, at my feet. I fell to my knees in the cold wintry carpet as Amon Rhidan's life poured out of him and painted the ground in a growing blotch of bright red, so stark against the glowing white.

I tried to make him look at me, to focus, thinking wildly that I might be able to save him with my powers somehow. That I might be able to catch him faster than the light could drain from his eyes. He looked at me; so many things, unspoken words, thoughts, trapped inside of him, glistening behind a watery sheen of unspilled tears. I couldn't seem to get my thoughts to cooperate, my feelings to coalesce into a single purpose, as desperately as I tried to escape the growing wail inside of my head, the creeping cold along my limbs.

He died, and with him, all of the light in me.


	13. Dark Deeds and Darker Hearts

Dully, I tried to rub the chill from my face, and my hand came away damp with mingled snow melt and blood. The front of my dress was soaked from Rhidan's arterial spray, red on red, though the blood in the fabric glistened almost black in the indirect light. I turned toward the wilderness beyond the balcony, as if searching the black woods for any sign of the assassin, though of course I saw nothing. Whether it was foolish or not, I didn't feel as though my own life were in danger. If I'd also been a target, I would be dead, as clear a shot as any, exposed on the open air.

Whoever was out there, I wondered if they could see me now. I wondered if Hux himself had done the deed, or if he'd made one of his subordinates do it, though I knew how much he liked to keep his hands clean when carrying out his underhanded deeds. I knew without a doubt that he was behind it. It was too clean, too meticulous. Of course, I thought, glancing down at the cooling corpse of my brief courtship, there was nothing clean about the spread of red that soaked into the snow beneath Rhidan's cold body like a sponge.

What was I supposed to do now? Had Hux including a contingency plan for me or did he intend to leave me here? At the moment, I was trapped. Down the lift and just outside in the hallway were those two elite guards, one of whom had greeted me by name. The only other option I could see was over the balcony to the arctic landscape below, but as I peered over the rail, I could see the thick layer of snow at least fifteen feet below. There was no way for me to know what it concealed. I could fall into a deep, soft snow drift relatively unharmed, or I could hit the jagged rocks that might be hiding just beneath the smooth surface, break my bones, and slowly die from exposure and internal bleeding. Fucking Hux. The sky above was becoming grey as a bank of clouds moved ponderously across, obscuring the glittering swathe of the galaxy's spiral arm.

In the distance, what was clearly a blaster shot echoed through the trees so that it scattered the sound and made it impossible to determine its source, and I looked back toward the black, snowy forest. After the last echo died away, everything was perfectly still once more, as if I'd imagined it. But then a bright spot of light began to emerge and rise above the snowy treetops a couple hundred yards off. A white vehicle, a snowspeeder I guessed based on its size and shape, was approaching the base, and its trajectory appeared to be pointing it toward me. Snow began to fall from the high ceiling of grey clouds like a silent, diaphanous curtain to the ground, and I shivered as the tiny delicate flakes lighted on my face and hair and melted.

I made the decision to stand there brazenly, shielding my eyes from the bright beam of the speeder's foreward lamps, like spotlights. The closer it came, the more slowly it moved until it had pulled directly along side the balcony and held its position. I could see a window in the clamshell door, but it was tinted so that I could not see past it. Whoever was in there, I wasn't going to move. I had done nothing wrong, and even so it was not as if I had any choice. If I ran, I would be assumed guilty or at least complicit. Be that as it may, as the engines died down and the enclosed snowspeeder idled, my pulse pounded in my throat. I was still wearing Rhidan's jacket.

The door opened upward, and as soon as I saw the pressed uniform pants, the meticulous shoes, I knew who was standing there. Hux, of course, wearing his clean cut officer's garb as well as a black uniform winter coat, leather gloves, and customary cap. His face was terse, and I could see that his cheeks were flush from the cold. His eyes lighted on me first, and then on the corpse that lay cooling under a gathering dusting of snow. I watched his face, but there was no immediate reaction beyond the narrowing of his eyes.

"Advisor Teraah," he said, looking back at me. "Are you hurt?"

He knew damn well that I wasn't. I said nothing when he asked me to come aboard, and after lingering on me for a moment, I saw him turn to the side slightly to speak to someone inside the craft. "Inform the Supreme Leader and the council that General Rhidan is dead." I looked past him and saw two snow troopers seated within he craft behind him, and a third was seated in the front. I heard the com pip of a communicator from the pilot. He looked back at me. "Tell him we also found the assassin."

Anger flared within me as I opened my mouth to expose his betrayal, but he interrupted me. He spoke to me now in the same lilting, inconsequential tone of voice which was reserved when any others were present. "A Resistance fighter managed to escape our brig and flee to the surface," he said, and I could only listen with disbelief. "A sniper. We took care of him, but we were too late. He'd had a clear shot to the General, and it appears that he took it." Whose benefit was this for, mine or the soldiers he had with him? Surely he wasn't trying to fool me. I glared at him, communicating the accusation without words, but he repeated. "Advisor, please come with us, you must be freezing."

The snowspeeder rose until the floor was flush with the top of the balcony rail, and Hux crouched down, his gloved hand extended outward toward me. I accepted after a moment's hesitation, telling myself to cooperate with him for now. I didn't break eye contact with Hux as he and one of the troopers lifted me over the railing and pulled me into the warm, red-lit interior of the vehicle. A blanket was draped over my shoulders, though even on top of Rhidan's jacket, the chill that permeated my limbs could not be taken away. I stared at Hux the entire journey back toward the equatorial rift and down into one of the hangar bays, but he avoided my gaze and eventually I looked away.

Two of the snowtroopers escorted me to the medical bay while the pilot and Hux left to take care of the official matters surrounding the General's death. Once there, I spent hours suspended in the medigel bath as it slowly raised my body temperature and delivered doses of soothing therapeutic chemicals through my skin. I didn't think much. There was nothing to ruminate on; Hux had used me to get to Rhidan, and put on a good show for the snowtroopers present. I wondered what poor wretch he had dragged out of his prison cell bed in the middle of the night, staged in the middle of the forest and then executed when there were other witnesses present. He'd won, and there was little I could do about it.

I was staring at the panels in the ceiling of the medical bay when the entry doors opened. Hux stood there, unaccompanied, and with a look, the small medical staff filed out without question, leaving us alone. His face was weary, I noted as he looked at me, the doors closing behind him, his shoulders straight and tense, his back a little less proper than usual. He approached and I sat up straight and regarded him, making my eyes shine with my cold resentment, waiting.

"Riala," he began, already setting the tone of our conversation by using our private name for me.

"Riala, is it?" I interjected before he could continue, my voice hard. "Does that mean you're going to speak the truth?" I saw his chest rise with a huff, but I could see in his face that whatever he'd been through with the council, whatever story he'd told them had drained him.

"You know the truth. Now the soldiers and the members of the council have their version of it."

Using the edges of the bath as leverage, I lifted myself up out of the water into a standing position, fully naked but for the medigel that clung to me. I know he watched me, but I spared him no notice as I stepped out of the bath, walked to the rack where a soft, clean white robe and slippers waited for me, and kept my back turned to him as I slipped into the robe and tied the belt around my waist. I wasn't entirely ignoring him for his benefit. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts, gather my resentment into a tight, spiky ball in my stomach. When I turned back toward him, I made myself tall, straight, dominant, and compressed the part of me that hated him until I needed it.

"You should have told me your plan, Lieutenant General," I iced. "But I understand why you didn't." I toyed nonchalantly with the belt, ideas forming in my mind. "I know that my interest in him had to appear genuine. Enough that he would make a mistake."

He nodded, his tired face starting to become more animated. "It worked. Even I was almost fooled by your act. I knew that I'd chosen you well for your role, Riala. It seems that your ambitions match my own." He started to pace slightly, encouraged by my apparent cunning. "General Rhidan has impeded the progress of this base for too long, and now the old fool no longer stands in our way." He stepped forward. "The council has accepted my testimony without question. You are innocent, an unfortunate bystander."

"Innocent," I repeated to myself, looking past him at the banks of medical equipment and supply cabinets. I was hardly innocent. Though I had not known that assassination was what Hux had in mind, I had still been his accomplice. Of course, my plans and his had been different, but in the end, we had both wanted to use Rhidan as a means to gain something for ourselves. Hux had simply been more direct in his approach. I spoke, keeping my voice neutral, holding onto the hateful energy that simmered low inside of me. "Now that he is taken care of, when can you expect advancement?"

He was more energized now, his eyes shining with cold light. "I've been in line for promotion for a long time. It merely awaited Rhidan's approval, approval which he deliberately withheld. Now that he is gone, I imagine things will progress much more quickly." He stepped closer to me, reached for me, but dropped his hands, fists clenched, when I stiffened. It was an involuntary reaction. My body had simply responded to my true feelings about Hux rather than my deliberate portrayal of them. I didn't want him to touch me, but then I didn't have to let him. I smiled, an expression which fell short of my eyes, and his gaze fell hungrily to my mouth as he spoke again, missing the duplicity behind my face.

"When I am general, Riala, I would have you at my side as my personal aid. I will give you everything that you want, and in return you will give me what I sorely need."

"That sounds strangely like an order, Lieutenant General," I said, my voice cutting dangerously. "Or should I say, General."

He met my eyes, his face softening as he breathed a little harder, cheeks starting to change from their previously drained pallor to the slight flush of anticipation. Already I was letting the heat in my belly seep below and between my legs, willing my desire to flare to life despite the ill will I bore him. The benefit of the nature of our private accord was that I could utilize my hatred. I didn't have to conceal it entirely, and the extra edge it gave me only seemed to thrill him more. I wanted to hurt him now, but I wanted him to crave it as much as I did. With him watching, I untied and removed the belt, letting the robe hang open. My skin still bore the vaguely botanical scent of the medigel, which wasn't entirely unpleasant, and the white, sterile surfaces of the medical bay were illuminated by the diffuse light in the ceiling. It was cold, dispassionate, impersonal. Perfect.

"Remove your shirt," I ordered. Uncertainly, his eyes flickered to the door before coming back to me. "No one is coming to save you, scum," I said, tugging the belt taut between my hands for extra effect, and the spots of color on his cheeks grew. Of course, I had no way of knowing that we would be uninterrupted, but I was at least fairly certain that none would disobey his order to leave us. And anyway, the extra risk made this more exciting, for both of us, I observed in the tightening of his trousers and the desire that ached to life between my legs. He complied, removing his jacket and the dress shirt beneath it and laying them carefully over the back of a chair so that he wore nothing but his trousers. I walked toward him then, my hand on his throat threateningly as I circled around behind him. Obediently he stood stock still as I pulled his hands behind him and wrapped the belt securely around his wrists, using a knot that I knew full well that he couldn't escape from. Roughly, I jerked his bound wrists downward, and he complied to my clear order to lower himself to his knees.

His bare torso began to move with quick, excited breaths, but I knew that he was probably curious as to why I made him keep his pants on. He would find out. While he kneeled, obediently keeping his face straight ahead, I searched the immediate area for something I could use, and when I spotted it, I grabbed it and brought it back to him. I cut a three foot section off of the thin, flexible ribbon of plastisteel from its spool and, testing it, I lightly flicked it through the air where he couldn't see me. It made a most pleasing whistling sound, and I knew he heard it for how his shoulders tensed.

"You should have told me your plans, General," I said, playing the role, knowing that addressing him as General would only excite him more. The words were more sincere than he realized, though, and I allowed him to feel the barest taste of the arousal growing in me just before I jerked my arm and whipped the ribbon of plastisteel so that it hit his back between the shoulder blades. The hard edge of the material cut into him, much more sharply than the pine switch, and he jerked forward and grunted as the line I'd left started to fill in with red, though it was too shallow to do him any serious injury. I could see by the side of his face that it was clenched.

"I'm sorry, Riala," he said through clenched teeth, his voice rough. I could almost feel the blood gathering in his groin, his arousal triggered by the pain and my dominance as he'd been conditioned by our previous sessions together. "It will never happen again."

With my free hand, I began to touch myself, rubbing fingertips along and between my labia, stimulating the nerve endings there and sighing appreciatively as my flesh responded and blood flow increased. I whipped him again, crisscrossing with the first, and he bent forward again, his cry a little louder, but before he could finish, I filled him with the sensations I was giving myself and his cry turned into a throaty moan.

"Good boy."

I repeated the cycle many times, enjoying the sharp red lines that my improvised whip left in his porcelain skin, and the way his hair fell into his face, uncovered when a particularly deep cut caused him to lurch forward and lose his cap. I made sure to send spikes of sexual heat in between the pain so that the sensations blended together and the crest of one met the dip of the other in continuous waves. It was breaking down any lingering tension and control he'd had after the meeting. Eight slashes hatched his back, red smears of blood where the lines intersected. My ministrations were making the entire area around them inflamed as in previous times, but this time I knew that his entire upper back was on fire. I knew I was hurting him more seriously, more permanently than usual, perhaps to the point where he might not be able to conceal it as easily around others, and I didn't care. The flame of my arousal and the wetness slicking the space between my upper thighs was the only thing I cared about now, and I made sure that it was all Hux cared about as well.

I finally walked around to his front and looked down at him. His back was bowed forward, his savage breaths made him quake, and I could see between his bent legs that his cock was straining against the fabric of his trousers, a tiny dark spot indicating where the tip was and indicating just what effect this torment was having on him. He looked up at me, his desperate expression gave me a delicious mental high which transformed into a line of heat straight to my throbbing clit. I lowered myself so that I squatted in front of him, thighs spread, and he hungrily looked down at the flushed center of my arousal. Just out of reach, I began to stroke myself with one hand, while the other still held the white plastisteel ribbon, its edges colored pink from his blood, the threat clear. Hux could only watch helplessly as I stroked and caressed my clitoris, my breaths becoming quick and shallow as the pressure began to build. The ache in my hips made me strain and open my legs as far as they would go, pressing myself into my steady, rhythmic motions, and he only seemed more on the verge of frenzy. I saw his shoulders work slightly, and I knew that he was trying to carefully loosen the belt's hold around his wrists, but the knot I'd chosen to use only tightened with struggle, and I was fully aware of the danger in it.

I felt the tingling warmth on my feet as the heat mounted in the base of my spine, and I willed myself to stay above, to stay present, to look at Hux in the eyes and force him to feel the excruciating whole of my body's pleasure as my fingers pinched and rubbed my clit, lavishing between my labia and around the outside of my clenched cunt. Before I could take myself over the edge, I saw his eyes roll up in his head and a shuddering started in his upper body. His hips jerked forward, and with a guttural groan, he discharged, the ejaculate soaking through his trousers thickly in a growing dark spot in the grey fabric, the swell of his cock pulsing with each spurt, until his back curved forward a few moments later and he deflated, spent.

I was too surprised to do anything, and after a moment, I realized that my rising orgasm had begun to fade before it had even reached its peak. Despite myself, I started laughing, leftover exhilaration making me giddy, as I looked at him. Dully, he met my eyes, his pale face still colored from the ordeal. He looked tired and more than a little stricken, no doubt due to his accidental noncompliance. I also knew that after the soothing calm of his post-orgasm waned, he would feel the stinging welts on his back and the wet chill of his emission, so plain on the front of his uniform. Knowing that the bindings I put on him were starting to ache from the purplish red tinge his hands had adopted, I circled around behind him without saying a word, and untied them. He immediately began to rub the indentations where the bindings had cut into him, shivering slightly.

Turning away, I began to dress myself in an outfit similar to the ones provided for the gym, grey leggings and a belted long-sleeved tunic. When I was fully clothed, I turned to him, still kneeling weakly on the floor. I would not be holding him until he was soothed this time, and I think he knew it.

"Congratulations on your imminent promotion." My words were neutral, but inside I swelled with malicious glee for leaving him in such a state, and I walked out of the medical bay calmly, as if I hadn't just made a Lieutenant General of the First Order come in his pants.


	14. The Black Corridor

Hux had not overestimated how swiftly his promotion would come. Though he was exhausted from the hours of debriefing and meetings he had attended all day, and while he was secretly suffering from my earlier cruelties, the ruling body of the Order scheduled a small ceremony for that evening. A mere 24 hours after Rhidan's death. Out of respect for the dead and matters of propriety, it was decided that the ceremony would be small, and that it was best that there be few others present for it. Only the highest ranking officials that were on the base at the time were on the list, yet I still received an automatic notification on my terminal that indicated that I was expected to attend.

But for some reason, when I left my room with the full intention to head toward the conference chambers where it was to take place, my legs did not cooperate. In fact, I found that I had started walking in the opposite direction. A small sense of relief grew in my chest the greater the distance between myself and Hux, until I was eventually wandering aimlessly through the corridors. I knew, and part of me took particular relish in the fact that Hux had likely been the one who wanted me there when he got his shiny new medal. The slight thrill of fear I felt over his guaranteed anger when I never showed up made my truancy all the more exciting.

I didn't need to see his triumph or the reward for his treachery. Even with the uniform I chose to wear, I did not feel a part of that world of official ceremonies and medals and symbols of achievement. I was never entirely able to shed the small set of rules that had taken up permanent residence in my brain. The rules which told me to keep my eyes down, not to speak unless asked a direct question, to make myself as small and unnoticeable as possible, to do as I was told. No matter what false name I adopted for myself, no matter what uniform I wore, no matter what my status in the base's system stated about me, I was still the slave girl. My designation may have been marked as inactive, but the numbers were branded into my mind in a way that could not be deactivated or erased. I would be 221784-R until the day that I died.

I turned down another corner, noting that I had managed to find myself in a quieter part of the base with large, dark halls. A dizzying ripple of uncomfortable recognition passed through me. I turned in circles to take stock of my surroundings, which had somehow crept up on me without my awareness. There were no directories in this place, but I knew where I was. Somehow, without meaning to, I found myself in that forbidden part of the base. And worse, in the corridor that was lined with doors which led to nowhere according to the maps I'd pored over.

Something made me return to this place while I'd been too distracted by my own thoughts to notice. Ahead, the hallway stretched, and though I could see the other side, it was as if there were an invisible wall between me and it that made it impossibly far. Behind me, much the same. I could sense that it was a barrier that I could physically pass through, _if_ I'd been so inclined, but that was the key. Ever since I walked through here to reach Rhidan only the day before, I'd tried to forget the strange power that I sensed here. With everything that had transpired since, forgetting had been easy. But now...

I stepped forward, and then again, toward the frightening and enticing presence. It guided me to a door, identical to the other doors beside it, yet I knew it was the correct one. No sooner did I stand facing it before it opened, as quickly as any other door in the base, but somehow with infinitely more weight behind it. The room beyond was dark enough that I couldn't immediately see anything, not until I fought the strange fear that gripped me and stepped inside. I was only somewhat aware as I removed my veil, finding it difficult to breathe suddenly. My eyes began adjusting to the shadows. A long table emerged, black like everything else, was surrounded by chairs; a conference room, but one that felt as if it were long unused. When I finally saw the man, I didn't immediately know what I looked at, I merely believed that the chair at the head of the table was taller than the others. But then he stood up, and I knew that it was he that had drawn me to this place.

" **I wondered when you would come,** " he said, coating me in a voice that was black and viscous like tar. I knew I'd heard it once before, and I knew who he was. Part of me, the animal part of me, wanted to leave this dark room and the figure standing inside of it. My base survival instincts told me that this situation was wrong, that I did not belong here. " **Please, sit with me, Advisor.** "

The other part of me, the part that desired to know of something greater than myself and longed to know the true nature of the crackling power which he exuded in abundance, and of which I'd only had the smallest grasp, that part of me was exactly where it wanted to be. I knew that he was the only one who could tell me about my talent. I moved toward him, passing through multiple layers of panic to do so, my heart fighting to escape from the confines of its cage with every step. I chose a seat that left two chairs between myself and him. Without removing eyes from him, I pushed the chair out and sat down. It was only when I no longer stood that he did the same.

I couldn't find the words, but then he spoke. " **Advisor Sindal Teraah,** " he said simply, but his tone told me everything. He knew that it was a false name. " **I don't think I need to introduce myself. We've met before.** " I tried to swallow, but the inside of my throat only stuck to itself dryly. He knew more than my name, of course. That day, when I overheard Hux arguing with that presence and that voice, Kylo Ren had looked at me. I didn't see it, with my eyes glued immovably to the floor, but I felt it. The hot, prickling mass hovering invisibly outside of me, prodding me as if to seek entry. I didn't feel it now, and I wanted to keep it that way.

"What now?" I asked, finally finding my voice, my heartbeat almost audible in the otherwise empty room. He held all the cards, we both knew it, and now I just needed the rules.

" **Tell me what you know about the death of Amon Rhidan.** " Another wave of panic struck me, and I couldn't get my mouth to move or my brain to work to reconstruct the lie that Hux had manufactured for me to tell. It was dark, but I felt very much like I was exposed, that somehow he could pierce the shadows more readily than I could.

"First, let me see you," I said, hearing the tremor in my voice. It didn't matter, Kylo Ren knew that I was frightened. Everything about the context of this meeting was a deliberate measure meant to scare me, and knowing that at least provided the foundation for the tiny burr of anger to snag and dig into the delicate membrane that housed my emotions.

Suddenly, diffuse lighting in the ceiling panels glowed to life, washing everything in the room with a dingy glow, and as I looked at the man seated at the head of the table, I realized that the light did not help alleviate my fears. In fact, bringing his figure out of the shadow only made them worse. The face he chose to show the world was matte black beneath shining ridges of metal, the configuration of which drew all focus to the impenetrable void where his eyes should have been. He looked comfortable in the chair, completely at ease, and it only made me realize how stiffly and tensely I now held myself, but I was not currently capable of adjusting my posture. He made a small hand gesture, as if presenting himself.

" **Now you see. Tell me what I want to know.** "

"How do you know who I am?" I asked, my attempt to stall as plain as my now openly visible face. My face prickled, and I gripped the armrest of the chair reflexively as I felt the dark energy begin to swell from him.

" **I felt you, just as you felt me. I grow bored with your blatant tactics, I will not ask you again.** " The pricking grew in strength, and now I felt a pressure building in my sinuses, a hot, swollen feeling between my brows and cheek bones. I gripped the arm of the chair tighter. I was terrified, but I made a choice then, one that I couldn't ever undo.

"Hux," I responded simply, though the act of speaking that one name took herculean willpower to override my begrudging loyalty to the man and the plot in which I found myself involved. Kylo Ren sat back in his chair slightly, and I felt the layer of needles and the pressure recede, to my relief.

" **I suspected as much.** "

"What are you going to do?" I asked, both for Hux and myself.

" **Nothing. There's no point. Rhidan outlived his usefulness,** " he said. " **I just needed to know for myself.** " I found it strange that his tone, even filtered through the mask, was almost relaxed, as if we were just two colleagues speaking to one another about pithy occupational matters.

"You aren't going to turn me in?" I asked, my heart fluttering in a mix of panic and relief. And bafflement.

" **For what? He used you to get what he wanted, and now he has it. Rhidan is dead, and as we speak, Hux is being given the accolades he so badly craved.** " He shrugged his broad shoulders, and I found myself staring at him, my fear forgotten in my stupefication. " **I would have suggested honorable discharge, but then I'm not so eager to kill when other methods would give the same results.** "

"I'm a slave masquerading as a free woman. I shouldn't even be speaking to you right now."

" **Oh yes. That.** " He sat forward again, and I felt his eyes on my face, studying me. " **Your ambition is admirable, and your success in attaining it thus far, even more so. I would gain nothing from exposing your deception.** "

I didn't know what to say. I was aware of how simple-minded I must have looked with my mouth open as I worked over what he just said. Incredulously, I looked away from him, to the room around us as if searching for the sign that I was dreaming, or in a simulated reality training bay such as the ones they used for cadets, but the rough-cut stone walls, seeping with damp and exuding chill were as real as the smooth, black stone table in front of me, and as real as the hunger for knowledge that being here with Kylo Ren gave me.

"Did you sense that I have the Force?" I asked. He didn't laugh, but he may as well have. He gestured dismissively.

" **You don't 'have' the Force. What you have is insignificant. A party trick.** " My eyes narrowed in indignation and I felt his eyes scan me again. " **It isn't uncommon to find a slave or a soldier with some kind of ability. But if it hasn't been noticed before now, it is likely beneath notice.** "

The burr of anger was starting to roll around and gain mass inside of me. Jagged barbs sank deep. "You know nothing of what I can do." I said, forgetting myself in my sudden need to defend my pride, and forgetting to whom I spoke. Kylo Ren stood up suddenly, then. Though his demeanor was entirely calm, I drew back from his full height and the black-cloaked shadow that seemed to draw the air from the room.

" **Let's find out then, shall we?** " He said. The heavy grit of his vocoder-warped voice almost sounded bored as he raised a black-gauntleted hand toward me.


	15. Pleasant Conversation

The few times I had felt Kylo Ren's power before, it felt like needles pricking along the outside of my skin; unpleasant, but not so unbearable. Now, the thin, sharp intrusions, only present along my face and scalp, came in a wave and sank deep. I experienced the curious sensation of having my mind tugged and stretched savagely forward, as though it sought to escape the confines of my skull. My muscles, from my shoulders up, tightened against the strain and the physical pull I felt drawing me toward him. It wasn't pain, not exactly. But still was the worst sort of torture. Behind clenched eyes, I saw and felt the results of his barrage. Vivid memories from across the spectrum of my life's experiences came to the surface again as they were individually touched, evaluated, and then passed aside for the next one _._ As if they were physical objects sitting before me that could be picked up by a hand and examined from every angle.

Some of the memories were completely mundane; the surprisingly tolerable taste of the nutrapaste gruel slaves are given for morning meal, the spark of malicious joy as an insult I had spoken to Armata struck home, more than one glimpse of the world through the perspective of my downcast eyes. Some were poignantly painful or joyful; the sensation of having my ribs broken, the way I'd felt when Phasma first saved me from the clumsy attentions of a would-be rapist, the mingled disappointment/amusement I'd felt the day before when Hux had climaxed before I did.

Suddenly, the wave retreated, and like a rag doll, my upper body fell back and to the side in the chair, and my head fell upon my arm as it rested on the top of the table. I could do nothing for long moments except remember how to breathe and wait for the feeling to come back to my tingling face and scalp. I hoped that he wouldn't do it again.

" **That was... enlightening,** " he said after a stretch of silence. For a moment, I was unable to physically lift the weight of my head immediately on my sore neck, and I could only turn it toward him and stare. He was sitting back in his chair, one hand tapping absently on the front of the arm rest, the other elbow rested on his knee while his fingertips thoughtfully touched his mask's chin. He seemed... jittery. I realized with some fascination that my body was showing the physical signs of arousal. The memory of the orgasm I was denied, the way the sensations had built up, almost to the peak, before lessening prematurely, was having a very real physical effect on me now. I glared, and my irritation and upturned memories of past emotions and experiences added a small barb to my gaze. Only the slightest shift in the position of the hand on his chin confirmed to me that he felt it, but he had.

"I'm so glad that you enjoyed that," I said, seething. Feeling and function was returning and shakily, I sat up straight in my chair, taller, as I looked at him. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

" **Not what I was looking for, no. But something... surprising.** " He seemed agitated, though he was maintaining a firm grasp. He shifted his posture slightly as he looked at me, and I didn't miss his subtle body language. Surely it wasn't the memory of being with Hux that affected him so. I couldn't imagine anything shaking him, especially nothing so base and carnal.

"How did you do that?" I asked, no longer able to deny my curiosity, but my words had a sharp edge to them. He sat forward again, as if he couldn't quite get comfortable.

" **I simply entered and took what I wanted,** " he replied airily.

"You simply entered?" I repeated, my voice trembling. " _You violated me_." The words were weak, and I hated myself for saying them, but my helplessness and indignation against his overwhelming power made it difficult to keep my cool composure. A sob threatened to escape my throat along with my words. I would not cry in front of him.

" **Y** **ou brought it upon yourself.** "

My fear and helplessness made me angry, and the stinging mass of rage and frustration roiled heavily around inside. I dared not grasp it for I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would not be an effective weapon here. Still, it ignited me, spoke for me."You're sadistic. You enjoy causing others pain," I accused, not believing the words I was saying to him, wishing I would shut up.

" **You are wrong. Pain is just a tool like any other. I assure you, I am capable of far worse.** " He stood up again, a column of darkness, and I could feel his own anger, like a black, jagged aura, swell outward from him. I felt sick, but still I cut my eyes up at him defiantly. I didn't look away, even as a ripple of raw power passed around me and fear writhed in my belly. He raised his hand to me again, and I could feel his eyes on my face. Being the subject of Kylo Ren's scrutiny was almost as terrifying as the sheer Force power I felt collecting around us as I felt every hair on my body stand on end.

"You may say whatever you want, but I know about men like you. You and Hux are one and the same." As soon as I said the name Hux, I knew I'd misspoken. Before he could react, I steeled myself against his assault.

This time it happened more quickly. The needles pierced me again, but this time, the sharply probing points of contact sought out some of my most unpleasant memories and images. The shame I'd once felt when, after being made to stand for eight hours without reprieve as a punishment, I eventually shit and pissed myself. The mind-numbing terror of being woken from my bed by my mother's hand as a child, only to watch her take a direct blaster hit to the chest and fall to the floor heavily. The accumulated despair I felt inside as I repeatedly closed myself off from the other children and slaves around me, warded them away with whichever cruelty I could come up with. With every barb, with every memory Kylo Ren uncovered, I felt myself retreat further to stay away from him. But then, a recent memory was pulled, one that didn't echo of pain and loss but of another feeling entirely.

Suddenly, I found myself reliving the simultaneous disgust and titillation I'd felt a week ago as, on my orders, Hux stimulated his own rectum with a crooked finger while I flooded him with the sensations of my self-gratification. I wrapped my gift of ecstasy in tiny shards of pain for his benefit, and it nearly drove him to the brink of madness. I felt malevolent delight as he cried out for more.

The sensory memories were enough to bring me back somewhat, and I became aware of my hands and how they gripped the ends of the armrests so hard that they had lost their color and warmth. Kylo Ren's needling presence in my mind hesitated for the briefest moment, and I used that small reprieve to gain a hard-won sliver of ground inside of my own thoughts. The throb of arousal I still felt from being brought back to that day, that sense of intoxicating control I felt over myself and my high-ranking plaything spawned an idea. I devised a hasty strategy, using the only weapon I had that seemed to affect my intruder.

I thought back to another memory, pulling it to the forefront so that Kylo Ren would see it and feel it, still within my head as he was. It was of Phasma, and the breathless excitement and total loss of self I'd experienced as her large, firm fingers stroked me to ecstasy. Kylo Ren was a man, and therefore did not possess the same anatomy as me. Still, for one fraction of a second, he knew what it felt like to have one's aching cunt lovingly penetrated by an expert tongue. Like a bad dream, he was gone from my mind, leaving a wake of enlivened nerves.

In front of me, he sat stock still, his body a rictus of tension, and I saw that his black gloves were wrapped as tightly around the arms of his chair as mine were. After a moment, he released a shuddering breath, made into a staccato purr distorted by his vocoder, and he pried his fingers loose one at a time. I filled my lungs once, twice, and then I spoke slowly, and with measured certainty.

"I know you felt that. I am going to guess you've never felt anything like it before." He looked at me through the black hollow in his mask, and though I couldn't see his face, I could almost imagine the agitation on it.

" **I can't say that I have,** " he answered, clearly trying to mask his uncertainty with a layer of nonchalance, and to my perceptive ears, failing.

"That is the nature of the Force as it works through me," I said fiercely despite my breathless voice. "That is what happens to those who seek to violate me, body or mind. I can just as easily cause pain. Just ask the General if you have any lingering doubts as to my abilities." I sounded much more confident than I felt, but I was tired of being treated like a subhuman. All of his Force presence was gone from the room, and the tall man wearing the mask and black robes became smaller somehow.

" **I never knew such things were possible,** " he finally said, his modulated voice a breath. " **I've never known the to Force express itself in such a way.** "

"It was self defense. You gave me no choice. I am through being violated for the entertainment of others." I lifted my head stiffly. My anger was changing to something else. Something very close to condescension. Whoever this man really was, however powerful he was, it was apparent that he was somehow incredibly naive. I had no idea as to his true age, but if I had to guess, I would have supposed that was younger than me, or at least very inexperienced when it came to dealing with other people. And judging by the effectiveness of the imagery I'd shown him, especially in matters regarding sex.

" **I see your point.** " He said simply, tapping his fingers on the arm rest. " **And I see now that I was mistaken.** " The black mask turned to the side, but I watched as his hand continued to drum a rhythm of disquiet on the arm of his chair. " **In combat, you would be no match for me,** " he continued thoughtfully, but his tone carried no hint of the arrogance that I might assume from his words. " **But I must admit that your skills are... uniquely disarming. I never would have suspected Hux to be so willing to debase himself for a woman.** "

A small smile threatened the corners of my mouth as I thought of Hux's terrible secret now exposed to someone who was not his friend. I sensed an opening, and pushed aside my emotional upheavals from the unwelcome invasion of my thoughts.

"It has saved me more than once. It has also caused me great difficulty. It almost seems to have a will of its own and it has frequently borne unwanted results."

" **T** **he power granted by the Force is often that way,** " he said, the ease with which he spoke indicated his confidence as we broached familiar territory. He seemed almost eager to confide in someone, and that revelation made me very curious. " **It takes many years of training to hone it into a weapon, or a tool to extract information as I have done. Though I have trained personally under the wisdom of Supreme Leader Snoke, I find that the power can sometimes overwhelm even me.** "

"I have trained under no one, I've had to figure it out on my own. When I return to General Hux, I will continue to languish under his oblivious patronage." Take my hint, I thought urgently. Please give me a taste of that terrifying power.

" **I don't see the potential in you to become a a great warrior of the Force,** " he stated matter-of-factly. I knew there was truth in what he said, still it made my heart sink. " **However,** **that in itself can be an advantage. Hux was not prepared, and I can see how you have crushed him beneath your feet.** "

"It is only superficial, the things you saw. It is a false domination." I sighed. I felt so tired. "I must still obey his wishes. He freed me, yes. Yet I'm a slave to his whims. If I displease him, he has the power to exact punishment, and there is nothing I can do about it."

His hooded mask tilted inquisitively. " **You crave more. It** **angers you,** " he observed. My brows furrowed. Yes, it angered me. While I enjoyed the satisfaction of making Hux hurt, making him beg and degrade himself for my pleasure, there was always the fact that he and I both knew that lingered around us even as I guided him to a new low. Kylo Ren steepled his fingers under his chin and leaned forward, resting his weight on his knees as if pondering my unspoken thoughts. " **He is a fool, though I never truly realized just how much of one until now.** "

If nothing else, it was pleasant to hear another speak of Hux so disparagingly. As much as I wanted to continue the discussion, though, I felt an acute sense of urgency. I was aware suddenly of just how much time had passed since I'd entered the room. The ceremony had likely long since ended, and I dreaded going back to Hux as I knew he expected me to. I didn't know if I would be able to act as if nothing happened. In the space of an hour, my world had fundamentally changed. I had met Kylo Ren, and instead of falling victim to him, I had managed to turn the tables and pique his interest in me. If I didn't take advantage of this moment, I may never get another chance. I was on the verge of something frightening and seductive.

"Kylo Ren," I began carefully, lowering my eyes respectfully until I knew he watched me, waited. "Will you teach me the ways of the Force? Will you help me to control it, in my own way? As you have experienced, through my memories, there are benefits to having me as your ally. You've only just had the barest taste of the pure sensory bliss that I am able to provide... I can make it worth your while." My heart pounded and I hoped against hope that my assumptions about his inexperience were true. My future might be hinging on them. I felt despairing for having to, once more, barter my unique sexual abilities in exchange for advancement. Yet I could not deny that I was intrigued by Kylo Ren. There might be potential for me to enjoy it as well, should he accept.

Kylo Ren began thrumming his thickly-gloved fingers against his chair again as he considered what I had offered him. He moved this way unknowingly, and I could see it for the tell that it was; a subtle indicator of the conflict inside of him as he tried to maintain an outward air of authority and distance. So he was still a man beneath all of his armor and mask.

" **That will not be necessary,** " he answered finally. The slightest crack in his voice, barely a blip in the gravelly timbre which colored his words as they filtered through his black mask, brought heat to my face as I realized that some part of him had been tempted.

" **I must speak to the Supreme Leader,** " he said finally. " **Only he can guide me in this matter.** " I let out the breath I'd been holding in a lackluster rush. He hadn't said yes. But he hadn't said no either. " **Until then, Advisor Teraah, I suggest that you try to contain your... ability. It is best that you do not use it on anyone until I know what to do with you.** "

It would have to do. I could tell that he was fascinated by what I'd proposed, drawn to the idea of becoming my teacher. His hesitation after I'd offered to share with him the sensual side of my ability was important, and I mentally filled it away for later.

Shakily, I raised myself to my feet by the arms of my chair. It took more strength than I expected to maintain a tall posture, as stiff as I had become from being fused to my seat. I had gained much insight to this man whose very presence preceded him. When i turned my back toward him as I took my leave, it took a great deal of courage. I could feel his presence, a light prickling at the edges of my perception that told me that his eyes were on me as I turned to go. Just before passing through the door, a sudden urge overtook me and, with reckless boldness, I honed in on and magnified the lingering throbbing that had not yet dissipated from between my legs, and I pushed the sensation of sexual desire behind me, letting it wash over him where I knew he sat.

I could have sworn that I heard the faintest gasp, filtered through a vocoder, but then the door whispered shut and the link was severed.


	16. A Demonstration

The sounds of skin smacking against leather echoed through the room as Hux, shirtless, intoxicated, and irritated, beat the heavy, sand-filled punching sack suspended from the ceiling. His intoxication was left over from celebratory drinks he and some other officers had in the commissary after his promotion, and its effects were apparent in his movements. He was hitting just a little bit too hard, and I could see when he missed the mark, and lost his balance slightly. He would immediately correct his stance and strike again. His clenched fists and pointed jabs were a blur. Clearly his speed wasn't adversely affected by the drink, but I knew that his judgment was impaired. This made him extremely dangerous, and I made sure to keep well back from him. He was dressed down to his slacks, his shirt and newly upgraded uniform jacket were slung over the back of a chair in the back, along with a towel. A sheen of sweat highlighted the curve of his every well-defined muscle as they worked in concert to apparently destroy this piece of exercise equipment.

"Advisor Teraah," he said, his face a picture of flushed concentration as his self-control warred with his irate displeasure. "Your absence may have cost me more than you know."

"You're a _General_ now, Hux. Politics and strategy are your world, not mine. You don't need me to hold your hand." I was treading on dangerous ground, and I knew this even before he turned his head to show me how near he was to losing his strict self control. My choice of venue had been very calculated. I wanted to catch him before he went somewhere less public. That alone might assure my relative safety.

He turned back to the bag and another high kick sent it careening so forcefully that I thought it might separate from the chain that held it aloft. "I made you my advisor, Sindal. I've given you everything you could possibly want." He started pummeling in a series of quick jabs, his words an utterance of grunts between each smack. "I gave you a new name, a new life, and a position with some respect. In return, I've asked for very little. Some decorum at the very least." He kicked the bag with a sharp heel, sending cloud of dust flying with it as it wobbled away on its chain. He stumbled forward slightly, caught himself.

"I wanted freedom. I am still a slave to you," I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

"It reflects very poorly on me that you were not there," he said, turning toward me, his shoulders hunched, his fists clenched. The ferocity of his behavior frightened me, but despite the quaking in my stomach and the racing of my heart, I could feel my resentment toward him very poignantly.

He steadied the bag with both hands as he looked at me, his bleary eyes communicating very clear threat. "I value our interactions. Very much. But you forget your place." My wrath was building hotly inside of my chest. Suddenly, I could no longer contain it. I snapped.

"Kylo Ren knows everything." Upon hearing this, he stood stock still, his mouth agape in disbelief. "He summoned me to him. That is why I was not there."

Suddenly, he struck the the bag. His speed was such that his movement was a blur. With a strained rip, the heavy contents of the bag burst forth through the weak point, and poured to the ground behind him in a cascade of black sand. He turned to me, and I could see the dull redness surrounding the blue of his eyes, and the blotches of red coloring his pale face. I knew that had we not been in a public place, he might have made me his next target, and I silently thanked my foresight. He was silent but for his heavy breathing.

"Summoned you, did he?" He was incredulous and skeptical, his face twisted with derision. "Or did you seek him of your own volition?" He jabbed an angry finger toward me aggressively. "I do not take betrayal lightly, girl."

"He called me with the Force, Hux. When I got there, he interrogated me," I said, trying my hardest to keep the bite out of my words. I watched his face carefully, watched the sluggish gears turn inside his head as derision faded to disbelief. I took advantage of his current distraction and tried to soften his clenched jaw. "The knowledge did not seem to upset him. I don't think he plans to expose you."

"For now. He will hold it until it suits him." Hux's hackles settled slightly as he thought it over.

"He showed interest in my use of the Force. He saw what I can do. He saw its effects on you." I basked in my remembered triumph when Kylo Ren's memory probing was waylaid entirely by my deliberate efforts. How surprised he'd been, how momentarily unarmed. Hux's demeanor and expression did not change, but through the blotchiness of his exertion, I saw the two distinct spots of color on his cheeks in response to the last part of my statement. Kylo Ren knew about our secret meetings, and Hux's particular tendencies were no longer between the two of us.

"What you have is hardly the Force, girl," he said stinging me with his condescension. "I admit it has its uses, but it doesn't match that of even our weakest Force-sensitive troops. To say that the Master of the Knights of Ren and the Commander-Inquisitor of the First Order saw something in you... I am amused by your ambition, Riala, but I fear that it far outpaces your ability."

I thought back to all the times he'd felt the effects of my talents. When he was in such a vulnerable state, I always felt the need to hold back, to keep from permanently harming him during my delicious and torturous ministrations. Once or twice I'd felt my will slip, almost give beneath the ball of wrath that writhed inside of me and struggled to get free. I did not know what would happen if I had let it, and Hux was oblivious to the struggle inside of me every time I punished and pleasured him. He didn't know how close I'd come to killing him.

"Advisor Teraah," he said, his voice the epitome of distant formality, with just a hint of his customary arrogance. His face was hard as he looked at me, cheeks still flushed from emotion, bare chest shining with perspiration. "I suggest that you re-evaluate your priorities in light of my precarious favor. You will attend me on schedule, as in our arrangement. You will arrive on time, and you will perform your function with aplomb. I will not tolerate any further disobedience. Or discussion of the Force. Or of _Kylo Ren_. Have I made myself clear?" He waited, watched my face carefully. I said nothing, but after a moment, my eyes dropped to the floor, a bigger gesture of defeat than any word. He seemed satisfied. "You are dismissed."

* * *

Later that night, I could only lay beneath my covers, facing the ceiling, thinking and dreading. According to our schedule, his schedule, General Hux was expecting me two days from now, and I didn't know if I would be able to find it within myself to engage him sexually, not now. I thought of General Rhidan again, and as my mind kept inclining to do, the memory of his face before and after his death was accompanied by a fresh bolt of grief. I felt that I had aged so much since the start of this, my 20th year.

Eventually I did fall asleep, but I had a vivid nightmare. In this dream I was dragged by soldiers to the cold snowy forest on the surface, given a sniper rifle, and told to shoot. Through the digitally magnified view, I could see Phasma and General Hux standing on the balcony of the same observation lounge where Rhidan and I shared his last moments. I kept trying to aim at Hux, but the crosshairs kept pushing toward Phasma, and I struggled as my gun's sights bobbed back and forth between them. A hand rested on my back in the dream, its touch leaving tiny pinpricks in my skin at the points of contact. I looked away to see who it was, but before I could see, the gun fired, jumping in my hand.

I shot up in my bed, panicked for a moment, trying to figure out which one of them I had killed, before my sleep confusion fell away and I remembered where I was. My room slowly emerged from shadow when the interior environment controls sensed that I was awake. At my console, I could see the blinking notification that told me I had a message. I reread it three times before it registered.

'Come to me as soon as you see this.'

It was from Kylo Ren, but I could see no time stamp indicating when he'd sent it, nor any directions. Quickly, I washed and dressed myself, unsure of the last time I'd gotten a good amount of un-broken sleep. I was certainly wide awake now, and jittery. Even though he had not said where I was to meet him, I suspected which part of the base he was in. I bypassed the small citizens mess hall where I would have gone for morning rations. The last meal I'd had was before I skipped out on Hux's ceremony, but at the moment, my hunger was overriden by my urgent need to know the purpose behind my summoning. Everything else was forgotten.

 _Come to me_. The words sent shivers down my back as I walked through the base, and I sharply remembered the hand that touched my back in my now fading dream. I tried not to think of the implications of whose hand it probably was, but I knew that I was likely going to see him now.

When I entered the black corridor, I noted a marked difference in the atmosphere. There was still an underlying charge to the air here, an unnameable sensation of heaviness, but the underlying dread that had accompanied me before was gone. Fear of the unknown had caused that, and now that I knew the source of the strange presence, my fear had no hold. I was not scared of Kylo Ren, but it occurred to me that I should be.

One of the doors ahead opened, a different one, and voices spilled out.

"This is the last time you will undermine me, Ren," the lilting, arrogant voice of General Hux was tinted with carefully controlled anger.

" **Be careful, General, that your personal feelings don't interfere with the will of the Supreme Leader.** "

"It was not the Supreme Leader that willed this." Suddenly, I found myself face to face with General Hux as he emerged through the door. He was sober, and very tense. For a moment, he paused in his path and our eyes met. But then he walked right by me without a word, toward the direction from whence I came. A thrill of fear and excitement made my insides flip.

The tall, black figure of Kylo Ren stepped through the door into the hall shortly after, and, when he saw me, I almost felt a palpable spark of recognition between us. I felt his presence, subdued, but prickling as ever around the edges of my awareness. He raised a hand and crooked his finger. " **Come with me.** "

He turned the opposite direction, and I had to hurry to keep up with his long, swift stride. His gait was heavy, if stiff, and in the open like this, under more direct lighting, I could see the varying textures of his robes. For some reason I was fascinated by how they swept out behind him. When the air moved it just right, I could see a flash of silver metal, a baton handle sheathed at his side beneath the one-shoulder drape he wore. He turned down another hall and then he was speaking. I had to walk even faster to hear him and keep pace.

" **Supreme Leader Snoke has given his approval. I will train you**."

The thickly distorted words were as musical as song to me, and a shiver of excitement passed through me when he said them. Combined with the malicious satisfaction I had felt when meeting Hux's eyes a moment ago, I was both ebullient and jittery.

"Does that mean I am your apprentice?" I asked, color coming to my cheeks when I heard the overt quaver in my words.

" **In order to become a squire, an apprentice, you would need to have come into your awakening much earlier. Conditioned and trained from a younger age. As I suspected, the Supreme Leader feels that your abilities are not adequate to qualify you for training as a true warrior of the Force.** " He turned down another hall, and I vaguely wondered where he was taking me while I processed his words. I felt simultaneously discouraged and confused.

"You haven't seen the full range of what I can do," I said carefully, frustration welling up as I searched for the ever-present anger that simmered inside of me, took comfort in its hot, bubbling presence. I combated the feeling of petulance and focused on the fact that we were still talking, that I might yet gain something from this.

" **I am aware. Supreme Leader has decided that I am to train what abilities you do have, focus them in a way that might yet be productive for the advancement of the Order. I will be your teacher, and in the act of teaching, he feels that I will learn.** "

My interest was piqued, and finally, he swept through a large door. I followed. The space beyond was quite big, and immediately I could see that it was a training room of some sort. Rough-cut stone walls of dark slate surrounded a large open square of floor. Displayed on the walls were a myriad of wooden staves, swords, batons, shields, and other combat training implements. I knew this is what they were as I, like most other slaves, had been hit by these objects at some point in my life. Usually by younger cadets that were not ready for real weapons training. Still, remembered hurts echoed through my mind as I took in the rest of the room. One of the back corners looked as though it had caved in slightly, and a pile of rock and debris lay stacked against it. In many places, there were deep gashes with singed and sooty edges cut into the walls and floor. Looking up, I saw more in the ceiling. The floor itself was covered in a black padded mat, slashed in some places where the white batting material inside of it showed. As he led me to the center, the floor was springy beneath my feet. There was the smell of dust and the faint scent of old sweat, though the air was not stagnant or unpleasant. Atmospheric scrubbers kept it from being totally silent, and kept the air from being too still. He turned to me.

" **As** **there is no longer any need for deception, what name do you choose for yourself?** " His question surprised me and I had to think about it for a moment. He knew who and what I was. While I'd become accustomed to the name Sindal Teraah, Riala was my true name. After it became my secret name in the privacy of General Hux's quarters, it had become tainted with anger and helplessness. I decided to reclaim it.

"I am Riala," I said, the confidence coming back to me. "What do I call you?"

" **You will call me Kylo Ren. It is my name as well as my title. As my student, it must be spoken in full. Save for Supreme Leader Snoke, you will answer only to me. General Hux no longer commands you.** " I felt the smile form on my face, and I couldn't hide it. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel the need to.

"I imagine he didn't like that," I said, slyly.

" **Do not cross him, Riala,** " he warned. " **In matters of the Force, he holds no authority. But he is still the commander of this base.** " I nodded clearly, smothering my humor. I knew that what he said was the truth. I'd seen the monster inside of Hux, seen how easily he'd orchestrated the assassination of his commanding officer and how he had given it barely any thought afterward. I knew what he was capable of simply in his search for idle amusements. Now that he had even more influence and power, I imagined that if he were so inclined, Hux could find a way to bypass my newfound allegiance to Kylo Ren and see to it that I never saw the outside of a prison cell again. This sobered me enough to give my teacher my full attention. Still, I quaked inside, unable to quell my excitement.

" **Before we begin training, I need to see what you can do, firsthand.** " Oh. I arched my eyebrow at this, remembering distinctly that he had told me this wouldn't be necessary. In the context, however, I supposed that it made sense. From what I'd observed, my powers were twofold; in sharing my pleasure, and in causing pain, though I was able to soften the latter to mere intimidation by withholding the barbs. Dannon and Armata had both been on the receiving end of this. Sometimes the two sides of my talent were distinctly separate, as if called forth from two separate places within myself. Other times, the line was blurred, and my well of power was one jumbled mass of raw mingled emotion. In such a case, use of my Gaze often resulted in unpredictable effects, as I'd learned.

In this way, my experiences with Hux had been somewhat beneficial. I had learned that using pain and pleasure in concert could quickly overwhelm someone, break down their defenses in a way that may not happen if used individually. In the proper context, it might even kill. I immediately pictured Hux's red gagged face, his naked body trussed up so that every movement tightened a rope elsewhere as I assaulted him with this melange of sensation. I remembered how he had lost consciousness. But, as I looked at the expressionless visage of my new teacher, I was hesitant to cause Kylo Ren pain. He was less of a terrifying mystery to me than he had been before we met. If anything, however, I was even more familiar with what he was capable of doing with his power, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to risk his anger.

I began to look inside of myself, to find that warm, simmering center whose location I associated with the concentration of nerves between my legs; the core of my sexuality. With Kylo Ren standing there watching, I felt nervous and intrigued, a heady combination. The heat rising in my core brought the heat to my face.

I closed my eyes, but images forced their way behind my closed lids; images of my teacher's gaze hidden behind the shadow of his mask as he looked at the world around him, and at me. His gloved hands tightly gripping the chair in the conference room after being exposed to my sensory memories. That tiny catch in his voice when he'd asserted that I did not need to give him pleasure in exchange for his guidance. The very fact that he did not seem interested in using my body and talents for his own gratification only heightened my fascination with him, and only made me feel more willing to show him what I could do. I wondered how his gloves would feel against my skin, and a sharp throb in my clitoris caught the breath in my throat. The warmth grew.

I opened my eyes. He was watching, clearly fascinated. He didn't know what I was thinking or doing, I realized. His presence was completely withdrawn. He merely observed now. I drew my eyes down, to his chest, involuntarily trying to search for some shape or line that might give indication as to what he looked like beneath his robes, and with a sigh, I let the sparking warmth flow out of me, much as I had the last time I left him. This time, however, I was fully rested, and I knew the effect was only magnified now.

Kylo Ren gasped and looked away. His upper body shuddered and hunched forward slightly, curving over his waist. An outside might think that someone had just punched him in the gut, but I knew that he was feeling the surge of my arousal. I did not stop. One of my hands lighted on my stomach, and as I watched his mask turn toward me again, my fingers slipped through the hip-high slits in my dress, and then beneath my waist band to relieve the wanting soreness that was fast developing between my legs.

Suddenly, he threw an arm forward. The air around me gathered, exerting an impossible pressure on every surface of my body. I was paralyzed in a gentle, inescapable cloud of invisible particles. They gathered against every surface of my body, holding me immobile with unyielding solidity. My hand was frozen with my fingertips just barely touching the skin at the top of my pubic mound.

I could hear soft breathing through his mask, and I could only watch stiffly, without blinking as he slowly, shudderingly, straightened his back to his full height again. He had not taken his eyes off of me.

" **I feel it would be best if I simply observed,** " he said, his modulated voice thicker than usual. Its throatiness made me wish more than ever at that moment that my hand were free so that I could touch myself. He was having the strangest effect on me, one that I doubted he even fully realized. Slowly, the air around me thinned again to normal density, and my body relaxed from its state of suspension. I removed the hand from the waist band of my leggings. " **I am going to summon a soldier. One that is somewhat familiar with the Force. I want you to demonstrate with him.** " He cleared his throat. " **Not me,** " he said, as if I needed more clarification.

I shrugged and nodded, but I couldn't help that my eyes lingered in the area below his broad belt, and the place somewhere beneath his robes that was clearly responsive to my attempts. He turned his head to the side, and I heard the com pip as he gave the order. Moments later, a stormtrooper entered.

"Kylo Ren," the filtered male voice said, and he stood to attention with a salute.

" **Jb-007,** " Kylo Ren addressed the trooper. " **T** **his is my student.** " The trooper, behind his uniform helmet, looked to me for a moment, then back to Kylo Ren. " **She is going to demonstrate her Force abilities for my evaluation.** " I could almost see the gears in the soldier's head turning, as he again glanced from Kylo Ren to me. " **Are you suitably up to the task?** "

"Yes, sir. Of course." Jb-007's voice was prompt, but I detected a hint of nervousness. I heard a faint rasp through Kylo Ren's vocoder, almost a laugh but not quite.

" **Don't be worried. I think you'll find it agreeable.** " The trooper was at a loss, but obediently, he turned his full body toward me and waited. I found his helmet distracting, though, as indistinguishable as it was from so many other stormtroopers, including those that had wished or done me harm in the past.

"Can you please remove your helmet?" I asked, tentatively. I had never asked anything of a First Order soldier before, and I wasn't sure if he would do as I asked. But, to my surprise and relief, the soldier raised his white-plated hands and lifted the helmet away. He now stood there bare faced, the helmet rested comfortably between his arm and his side. I allowed myself a long moment to absorb the sight of him. He was quite handsome, in a severe way. Piercing blue eyes, the corners weathered with experience, regarded me beneath a firm brow. Solid, sharp cheekbones and a square jaw framed a serious, soft mouth.

I smiled.


	17. A Soldier's Duty

I breathed deep, recollecting my thoughts, seeking out the heat that coiled in my belly, the gathering warmth between my thighs while Jb-007's icy blue eyes watched me with reserved interest. I was barely aware as Kylo Ren stepped further back, but I coudn't waste thought on his apparent caution with my proximity.

I exhaled, and with it I sent delicate tendrils of suggestion toward the unmasked trooper. I saw the hard lines of his jaw soften slightly, his firm brown lightening just a fraction. It was just enough to let me know that his sexual interest in females was a certainty. His serious lips parted.

"Come to me," I instructed the trooper. The use of Kylo Ren's same words, the ones he'd used in his message to me this morning, wasn't entirely accidental. I felt my teacher's power like white noise, withheld, but constant, and it excited me to know that he watched my every move. It gave me the desire to perform, to put a little bit extra into this show.

There was some hesitation, as the stormtrooper's blue eyes flickered from me to Kylo Ren, but then he began to step forward, his helmet still tucked under his arm as if glued there. I wondered if it gave him comfort. He was standing directly before me now. Jb-007 was just slightly taller than me, with a solid build, man enough that I was looking forward to bending him to my wishes. I raised a hand and gently touched his solid cheek, cupped it, stroked it. His eyelids fluttered closed and I cupped my palm to his jaw. My heart was beating faster, and I could tell that his was as well. Without exerting much pressure, I drew his face toward me, and after the pause of a breath, our lips met.

I found myself wondering when the last time was that this soldier had experienced a sexual release, because as soon as we kissed, his mouth became fierce and hungry. Ripples of heat extended from the point where our mouths intersected, ripples which spread and moved throughout me, and converged down to my genitals. There was a clatter as he dropped his helmet to the floor, and such a blatant disregard of his equipment alone told me that I had hooked him. His gloved hands touched my face and I pulled back. Dazedly, he leaned forward, tried to maintain the kiss, but I pointedly pinched one of his gloved fingers between mine, the message clear: remove your gloves.

Hastily, Jb-007 complied, his breathing hard as he removed his gloves, his eyes bright and focused on my mouth, eager for more. The gloves joined his helmet, discarded on the floor. When his bare hands, large and rough as a soldier's should be, touched my face again, they left a pattern of tiny stirrings in my nerve endings. Every movement, every piece of mutually exposed skin that touched added further warmth to my sexual heat. I let him feel what he was doing to me, how he was affecting me, and his sharp cheeks began to color, his eyes glowed.

"Please remove your armor," I said, my voice unintentionally husky. I saw him give pause, saw his eyes stray to Kylo Ren's ominous form standing back and to the side, watching, but I guided his eyes back to mine with a hand on his face. "It's just me and you, Jb-007," I said, penetrating his mind with my Gaze, throwing forth sexual energy and suggestion. I could not see his thoughts, not the way Kylo Ren could, but I could read them on his face. I knew then that I could not make him do something without the inclination already there, and apparently he was uncertain about engaging with me while another watched. I figured it was best if I led by example.

Slowly and smoothly, to ensure that he would be distracted from our observer and follow my hand movements, I began to unfasten the front of my uniform. The seam was hidden by a flap, which I undid quickly. My pulse was in my throat, my stomach quivering between excitement and nausea as I tugged the opened dress downward, exposing my shoulders first, and then the rest of my torso, to the cool air of the training room. I felt my nipples harden almost instantly, and now every tiny eddy in the air, every subtle and nearly undetectable current was like an almost painful caress to them. The soldier's blue eyes were rapt, his breathing fast and shallow as he studied every inch of my newly exposed flesh. The dress dropped to the floor.

Gracefully, without breaking eye contact, I hooked my thumbs into the waist of my leggings and lowered myself into a crouch as I slid them down my legs. I straightened up and stepped out of them, kicked them aside. I was completely naked now, and I could see that the stormtrooper had all but forgotten Kylo Ren. Goosebumps rose on my skin. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw slight movement where my teacher stood, though a quick sideways glance showed him to be perfectly still, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Your armor, please. Let me see you," I said, stepping up to the stormtrooper, bringing us a little bit closer. There was no hesitation this time. Jb-007 hastily began the clumsy, tedious process of removing the individual pieces of armor plating. Realizing that this might end up taking awhile, I decided to help him along. The more pieces of plating that dropped to the floor, the more frantic his movements became, until finally, he was in his black body suit. I barely had time to appreciate how it hugged his muscular form before he was removing that as well, unzipping the top and letting it hang around his waist. His firm, dense chest rose and fell as his hands came toward me, I let him touch me, pull me against him, bare skin on bare skin, warmth multiplying with the connected surface area. He curled forward over me, his large, calloused hands gripping my buttocks, my waist, my breast. Every squeeze sent bolts of white hot fire straight to my groin, and a trembling started deep inside of me. He was surprisingly gentle, if urgent, and I found myself wondering where he'd come from.

I slid my hands around his torso, savoring the feel of every rib, every heavy muscle that gave shape to his body. I curled my fingers around the lower half of his body suit and tugged. It fell to his feet, and his vibrantly erect cock sprang forth unhindered. With our heights so near, his phallus prodded my pubic mound, hard as a stone, causing the muscles of my vagina to clench reflexively, as if to reach for it. I was slick, and I could feel it on my upper thighs, the way the air caught the moisture, and sent shivers of chill through me even as I burned. My hands found their way to the base of Jb-007's cock, to the soft, heavy shape of his testicles, skin tightened by the urgency of his desire. I started to stroke and tug gently, kneading the hot, inflexible length of him, drawing his shuddering abdomen closer so that I might draw him into me and fill my painfully aching chasm.

There was a familiar tug in my chest. Kylo Ren's presence was withdrawn, but I still felt him there, and I remembered what my purpose was. I needed to show him that I could control it. Giving in to what I wanted at this moment, which was undoubtedly to fuck the soldier with the piercing blue eyes until we were like mindless rutting animals writhing about on the floor, that would only show that I was helpless against my desire. A slave to my own power.

With a regretful sigh, I stepped back from the trooper who, again, tried to follow, to keep the distance between us as minimal as possible. I slid my hands up to his strong shoulders and gently pushed him down. Though he was stronger than I by far, it seemed as though he had lost all strength. He locked his eyes with mine as he lowered himself, his hands lingering on my breasts and brushing across over sensitive nipples, making me shiver deliciously. He stopped when his was on his knees, peering up at me from below the swell of my breasts.

With a look of firm command, I placed my hand on the back of his head, fingers raking through short cropped hair, and I pushed his head down further. He had to bend his back to reach it, but as soon as his mouth was level with my wet cunt, he knew what to do. With the self control of a man with sexual experience, he pressed his face fully into the space between my thighs, and I felt his tongue push forward and slip between the aching lips of my outer labia. A careful but firm tip stroked my clitoris from bottom to top, and then around its circumference in tiny whirls. I groaned involuntarily and my hips shuddered, pushed forward. He answered by gripping my buttocks in his hands, fingers lightly digging into my flesh, and pressing more of my throbbing vulva to the surfaces of his tongue and mouth. My eyes rolled up into my head and I momentarily forgot to breathe. His skill did not match that of the glorious Captain Phasma, but it was close.

I barely noticed when one of the hands left its place gripping the cheek of my ass. But then subtle, jerky movements of his upper body made me pull my attention reluctantly away from the the insistent probing and lavishing of his oral ministrations. When I looked down and around my side, I could see that between his muscular thighs, he had begun to stroke his swollen cock in the circle of his thumb and fingers, drawing his palm in long, smooth movements from the base to the tip and back. I looked back to his face and saw that his pale blue eyes were intently on my face. My cheeks burned at his apparent desire to watch my expression, and I clenched the back of his head in my hand tighter.

He used the hand that still gripped my my ass to keep my groin firmly pressed to his face. With his tongue stroking the tender, burning flesh there, he began to tip backwards slowly, drawing me with him. I could only come along for the ride, a giddy thrill coursing through me as I followed his lead and the pull of gravity. He rested himself with his back against the floor, pulling my full weight down on his face so that I straddled it.

Waves of nearly unbearable warmth filled me from the arches of my feet up to the base of my spine, threatened to pull me into them. I struggled to stay aloft all while my hips began to move of their own accord, finding a rhythm to move my groin against him so that matched that of his untiring lips and tongue. I could feel him continue to stroke, and as I undulated against his probing tongue, one of my hands circled around behind me and rested on his firm abdomen. Without fully knowing how, through my touch, I let flow the energy that was trying to suck me downward into mindlessness, and I poured it into him, straight to the source of his arousal, as sweet wine through a funnel. I heard him groan, muffled beneath me, and his entire body bucked as if shocked. The pace of his stroking increased, and in between flicks of my clit with the firm tip of his wet tongue, his lips moved against the entrance of my ravenous, tightening cunt. I didn't hold anything back. To keep my head in the moment, I redirected all of my building sensation into him until he couldn't stand it.

White hot fire bloomed within me, swelled inside of my chest, filled me with greedy jolts of sharp pleasure. Judging by how hard the soldier was breathing beneath me, he felt it too, the rushing of his breath through his nose lightly tickled my pubic hair, and I felt every muscle in both of our bodies tighten in near agony.

I allowed myself, quite eagerly, to hurtle over the crest of my climax, but I pushed him just before me so that he got the worst of our combined orgasm. He uttered a deep, harsh, guttural cry, and its vibrations hit me right in the nerve center with with he was currently so well acquainted. I came like a deluge of fire. Shudders racked my body, and I felt the hot, moist string of his ejaculate light upon my lower back as his hands pumped and stroked himself until he was emptied..

The waves receded, leaving a trail of quaking aftershocks in their wake, but I was glad to see that my wits were still about me. I removed myself from above him shakily so that I sat on my knees beside him. Jb-007 was ruined at the moment, panting and staring straight above him blankly while he tried to regain his grip on reality. His entire lower face glistened with the moisture of my arousal and, as an afterthought, I bent over him and kissed him, sweetly. A weak hand came up and touched my arm, dropped back down.

I gathered myself and took a moment to breathe in and out deeply a few times. I allowed myself to steady my pounding heart, before I rose myself to my feet and turned to face Kylo Ren.

Somehow, I hadn't been aware until now, that his mask was making strange, ragged noises, like static interference. His breathing. A small ball of frustration rose into my throat when I considered the possibility that I had not focused my sensory gifting skill well enough. The entire time I took pleasure with the soldier, who still lay on the floor sprawled, I had made sure to only focus on him, to only share my sensations with him. But as I looked at the hunched figure of the black-cloaked Kylo Ren, I feared that I had already proven myself unable to control my feelings and use them deliberately. I came toward him, and his body immediately straightened out, stiffened. For the briefest of moments it looked as though he were going to bolt, so I stopped a few paces from him.

The moment passed, the tension bled from him, and the sound of his breathing lessened. He cleared his throat, a strange growly warble as translated through his vocoder.

" **That was...** " he started, faltered, his gravelly voice hoarse. " **That was impressive,** " he finally said.

"Did you feel it?" I asked with great trepidation. "I tried to keep it localized. If I have failed, please give me another chance."

He raised a hand lightly, dismissively, shifted his balance slightly from one foot to the other. " **I felt nothing from you. I simply _observed_ as you almost immediately overpowered a soldier that has been trained in matters of the Force and defense against it. It should not have been so easy. Though your methods are... unconventional.** " His voice audibly cracked, and I looked at him with renewed skepticism. Something about his bearing and his unsteady speech indicated that he was uncomfortable. I kept my face utterly serious as he continued. " **Tell me, i** **f you can do that with pleasure, what of pain?** "

I reflected a moment on that question. Behind me, I heard Jb-007 stir from his place on the floor. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the man, his face still dazed, sit up and look at the scatter of armor around him. I turned back to Kylo Ren.

"I have never been able to fully utilize it. With Hux, I felt the need to always hold back, to keep from potentially injuring or killing him. The pain is an extension of my wrath and anger. The part of me over which I feel I have the least control. It frightens me, so I keep it suppressed." I glanced down at myself and realized with some mild amusement that I was standing there naked. When I looked back to Kylo Ren, I saw that he had been looking too. Now, the mask turned up and to the side, loftily.

" **I want to see the full extent of your ability to cause pain. If what I've just witnessed is any indication, it could prove to be useful to me. To the First Order.** " He let out a long, slow breath. " **I think I have seen enough. You may take some time to recover. When I am ready, I will summon you.** "

I was a little bit baffled by the fact that he had both said that he would grant me time to recover, and that he would summon me when _he_ was ready. Which one of us truly needed to recover?

I nodded my head anyway and bowed slightly, pleasure welling up inside of me at the fact that my new teacher was impressed with me. I turned to go, smiling brightly at Jb-007, who had started to numbly pull his black body suit on. He looked at me, and it was clear that whatever I'd done to him still left him dazed. I bent down to gather my clothes and I heard Kylo Ren clear his throat again behind me.

" **Riala, you have something on your back** ," he muttered.

Out of his sight, I smirked as I slipped my dress over my head and zipped it shut. The traces of the soldier's emission left a damp chill spot where the fabric touched it. I said nothing, I only walked out of the room and back to my quarters.

* * *

Author's Note: As far as I'm concerned, JB-007 is a canon character, and he just happens to look like Daniel Craig.


	18. The Inquisition and the Inner Self

I spent the rest of the day after my demonstration scanning through the database to find everything I could that might aid me in my new position. There wasn't much on the Force itself, but I did find some information on those who had been able to wield it in the past. As I scanned the blocks of text, there was something vaguely familiar, about a two-sided conflict, which stood out in my mind. The Sith and the Jedi. I saw names, always a master and an apprentice, in a long line that led millenia into the past

It was mind boggling how little I had learned about the First Order's spiritual predecessor. Not surprising, no; as a slave education beyond our immediate functions was unnecessary. What was mind boggling was the sheer amount of information that existed out there. The fall of the Galactic Empire roughly thirty years ago coincided with the death of the Sith Emperor and his student at the hands of a Jedi. After that, the word Sith disappeared from the annals. I discovered that the specific way in which the Knights of Ren, and those before them, wielded the Force was referred to as the 'Dark Side.' I could see no indication that the 'Light Side' was any better.

The Force's affects seemed to hinge on whomever was using it and their motivations for doing so. I did have to admit, my ability to cause pain and intimidate seemed pretty dark, as did Kylo Ren's intrusive memory probing. There were other facets, however, other sides to this strange and pervasive power that didn't seem to fit within the ability to cause pleasure in and share my own pleasure with others, for example, was clearly a gift. One that I longed to share with my new teacher. I had sensed that he was hesitant to experience it himself, and sadistically, that only made me want it more. It was the only thing, that I had seen so far, to give him any pause. I thought again to the fact that I had no idea as to his true age, or his appearance underneath his uniform and mask.

My imagination came up with all kinds of physical abnormalities or irregularities that he might be hiding. Things that, understandably, might make him feel reluctant about sexual matters or physical intimacy. I tried to imagine anything from horrible burn scars, to missing limbs or, grotesquely, that perhaps he didn't have a face. Once, I'd seen a soldier once wounded horrifically in combat, missing her lower jaw. I caught her in a vulnerable moment as she removed the prosthetic jaw to adjust it, revealing a gaping hole and a flapping tongue that comprised the entire lower half of her face, before she obscured it once more. That had been the most difficult thing to first look at and then away from, but I felt it unwise to gawk when she had years of combat training to back up her pride.

If it turned out that Kylo Ren was missing the lower half of his face, it might be difficult to look past. Even so, I felt enough respect for him that I would have been willing to accept him for whatever it was, if he ever chose to show me. As I mindlessly scrolled through the section about the last Sith warriors, names that I read and did not register, I realized that it didn't matter how he looked underneath his clothes. I just wanted to see him. To touch him. To share my gift with him. If only he would allow me.

A message pinged on my terminal, interrupting my browsing and my thoughts. I almost was out of my mind in panic when I saw who it was from. Had he somehow heard my inappropriate thoughts? Of course this was foolish. I hadn't felt his presence, and wasn't sure that he could do such a thing from a distance anyway. His message was normal enough. He wanted me to meet him in the entrance of the security section, the base of operations, in an hour. He also wanted me to wear black, something that seemed strange to me.

I'd grown fond of my Advisor uniform, so I wore a variation on it. A long-sleeved tunic split at the waist with front and rear panels belted over black close-fitting pants. It fit me well, and as an afterthought, I decided to cover my hands with a pair of thin gloves. I finished it with a silk veil, the same as the one I'd worn with my uniform, in black as requested. I didn't know what he needed me for, but I wanted to be prepared for anything, and I felt most confident in these clothes.

I left early so that I would arrive at my destination with plenty of time to spare. My heart fluttered in my chest as my mind kept straying to disrespectful musings about Kylo Ren. I tried unsuccessfully to fixate on more scholarly thoughts.

The security headquarters was part of a larger sector according to maps of the base, one which contained the monitoring and surveillance, intelligence, and detention blocks. When I arrived in the vast lobby thoroughfare, it was bustling with activity. Something told me without having been here before that there was an unusual amount of excitement and agitation in the air, as various ranking personnel raced through the center of the room, headed toward lifts or transport tubes to different destinations. The air was humming with excitement. Straight ahead, a towering bank of displays showed diagrams and information, as well as a map showing what lift or transporter led where.

The First Order news feed was on the largest center screen, and text scrolled through. I caught glimpses of the possible cause of all the excitement: a Resistance spy had ben captured earlier in the day and was now in the custody of Starkiller Base's Security forces. I didn't have much time to think on this, however. As I approached the displays at the back of the bustling hall, I felt a familiar presence at my back. I turned. Kylo Ren was coming through a large door on the side, headed toward me. Trying desperately to keep pace with him was a much shorter, severe looking older woman in a uniform which indicated her as the director of Security. I felt Kylo Ren's eyes meet mine from across the room, over the heads of the crowd. The hurrying personnel diverted in a large circle around him where he walked.

" **I will take it from here,** " he said to the director in that coarse and velvety voice which cut through the constant ambient noise like a blade. She snapped her heels together and saluted before rushing off in another direction. Kylo Ren looked at me, his face moving subtly to indicate that he was examining my clothing. " **This will do. Come with me**." I nodded, but he had already moved forward, heading to the back of the lobby. His swift, loping gait hinted at his heightened state. I had to rush to keep up with him, but I appreciated how the path that cleared in front of him kept me from running into other people as they avoided us. I felt myself becoming affected by the atmosphere of agitation and excitement that surrounded me, and my heart started beating a little faster. My stomach fluttered weakly.

His demeanor was entirely changed from when I'd left him earlier. He'd barely been holding it together after the display I'd given him. Now, he exuded the same unquestionable sureness that he'd had when I first met him, and I could almost tell from the way his aura of power touched me, in faint, tingling points of almost static energy, that he was energized.

We passed through a pair of double doors in the back and they closed behind us. There was still frenetic activity, but the sound was muffled, more serious as people passed us. We approached a lift that I could see only accepted only specific security clearance.

A sign indicated that it led to the detention center and the intelligence agency, and my curiosity was peaked when we stepped aboard. I found myself repeatedly glancing to the side where Kylo Ren stood, a black wall in my peripheral vision. Questions burgeoned on my lips as we began to descend the levels, but I held them strictly at bay. Luckily, he gave answer to my unspoken thoughts.

" **We have an opportunity to test the extent of your Force sensitivity much sooner than I expected,** " he stated, looking straight ahead. I listened raptly, studying the side of his hood, my pulse jumping in the vein at my throat. " **As you may have gleaned, our security forces have managed to capture one of the enemy. A Resistance supporter, and a terrorist, who possesses information that is very valuable to me.** "

"What is it that you wish of me, Kylo Ren?" I asked. He turned his head to the side, revealing a sliver of his mask. The Lift stopped before too long and opened into a hallway with walls made of stone. Above us, I could see paths and walkways for many more levels, rife with heavy foot traffic. I followed him as he swept out of the lift, his pace quicker than usual.

" **This terrorist, a Bothan spy, holds information that could lead us to victory over the Republic, the Resistance, and all that dare stand in our way. Thus far, however, he has proven resistant to our usual methods of information extraction.** " The way he said 'information extraction' with such an utter lack of concern made my skin crawl a little bit. I knew without a doubt that he was speaking of torture. It was apparently nothing worth giving pause to, however. " **If the serum injection** **and physical extrication fail to produce results, I must come and extract the information myself.** "

We turned down another hallway, where he stopped me and turned to face me. I could see at the far end of the hall, four stormtroopers, including two elite snowtroopers, were standing in the hall outside of a door. " **I want to see you work, Riala. I want you to use any method necessary, and as much force as necessary short of killing him, to get him to tell us what we need to know.** "

"And what if I fail to get anything from him?" I asked, my voice low and terse. His impenetrable mask regarded me without answer for a moment, and I felt sweat form on my upper lip and forehead.

" **If you fail, I will simply do it myself. We will get the information either way,** " he responded, his tone unreadable. His next words, however, were pointed, emphasized. " **I do not want you to fail, Riala.** "

"I don't want to fail you either, Kylo Ren," I responded quickly, unable to keep my voice from sounding as unsure as I felt. My body began to feel both chilled and overly warm at the same time, resulting in an uncomfortable clamminess that seemed to coat my skin beneath my black uniform.

He took a small step toward me, which brought us incrementally closer. The proximity emphasized our height disparity, and I had to tilt my head up to continue looking at him. I studied his mask, the shining metal grooves that brought focus to the black space, the depths of which were where his eyes dwelled. His demeanor wasn't intimidating or foreboding, at this moment, though. Somehow, it was more personal, as if only he and I existed in this hall and the soldiers and officers passing by only phantoms. I felt myself sweating for a different reason.

" **Now is the time for you to show me the full extent of your capacity to direct the Force to your will. I need to see that you are capable of more than...** " he paused, as if searching for the words. " **That you are capable of more,** " he said finally, causing heat to rise to my cheeks. It wasn't that long ago that I had seduced a stormtrooper and convinced him to pleasure me with total abandon right in front of Kylo Ren. Something that seemed utterly, ridiculously absurd upon reflection. But then, I couldn't help the nature of my talent.

I nodded stiffly, determination in the set of my brow. "Yes, of course." Satisfied, he moved back, dissolving the invisible sphere that seemed to have formed around us and letting the outside world in once more.

" **There is not much time, so listen to me carefully. When you enter the room, you must speak as little as possible. The more you say, the more you reveal of yourself. When attempting to extract information, the wrong word or shift in expression could result in an irretrievable loss of ground. It is a battle of wills, and one that you must not lose. it was wise to hide your face, it will provide less foothold for the subject to anticipate you.** " I found myself wondering if this was why he chose to cover his own face, but he continued, breaking my train of thoughts. " **Most importantly, your powers are untested, and therefore, still wholly unknown. As much as I would enjoy seeing the full extent of your ability to cause pain, you must exercise restraint in this case. He cannot die. Not until we have everything we need from him.** "

I nodded again, anxiety and nervousness making the bile rise in my throat. I did not let it show in my eyes, the only part of my face visible. I wanted him to have confidence in me, I wanted him to be pleased with me. I could not fail him. I heard him breathe, saw him make a minor adjustment to straighten his posture, and I realized with some shock that Kylo Ren also seemed a little apprehensive. It only made the full gravity of what I was about to do that much more jarringly apparent.

Then it was gone, and his aura of power, of authority began to gather and become dense around him, changing the air pressure in the immediate vicinity. Once more he was no longer just my teacher. He was Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren and Commander-Inquisitor of the First Order, with unfathomable power at his fingertips and a palpably terrifying presence. He turned away from me, and I studied his back and broad shoulders with renewed curiosity as I followed him down the hall, toward the door that was so heavily guarded. The troopers on either side stood at attention and nodded a salute before they separated and let us through.

I followed Kylo Ren into the room beyond, trying to take it in without being too obvious, trying to make it seem as though I had been here many times before. Most importantly, trying to adopt an aloof, arrogant demeanor as I'd seen in so many officers. It was all a farce. The small room was long, low, and almost entirely shrouded in shadow, and perceptibly brimming with unease. I could make out the forms of two white-armored stormtroopers standing guard just inside the door, and when Kylo Ren and I entered, they saluted and left. The door closed behind us. I heard the sound of heavy breathing on the other side of Kylo Ren. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and my teacher moved to the side and stood there, following me with his mask as I slowly approached the source of the ragged breathing.

A Bothan male, strapped to some kind of upright harness, was bathed wanly in a single beam of light, causing him to stand out like an island in a sea of darkness. He was clothed in garments that were singed and torn, as if from combat. Every part of him was held immobile, secured by shackles to the harness. His long face, with its broad, flat nose and wide thin-lipped mouth, was wreathed in a wild mane of brown hair which seemed to completely encircle his head as it joined with his shaggy beard. His mouth was currently open and sucking in short, wheezing breaths. Inhumanly large, black eyes comprised of all pupil, glittered intelligently, as he looked directly at me.

I nearly looked away when met by that piercing stare, and I fought against my urge, pushed my will to the forefront. Instead of turning away, I made myself walk over to him carefully. His eyes flickered from me to the silent shadow of Kylo Ren behind me.

"What torments have you devised for me now, First Order scum?" The Bothan male spoke, his voice gravelly and coarse, so different from what I was accustomed to being around humans my entire life. "You may cut as many parts of me off as you want, but I will give you _nothing_."

Kylo Ren did not speak, but I felt his presence at my back. The prickling warmth was both comforting and unsettling. He would keep the situation from escalating should I fail, but I knew that he evaluated my every move. Eventually, the Bothan's gaze fell on me again when he did not receive an answer.

"You insult me. This one is barely a child." He was talking about me, and despite my face covering, he had already determined that I was relatively young. My face prickled with heat. Kylo Ren continued to say and do nothing. I was on my own.

I breathed deeply and slowly. I closed my eyes and then I looked inward.

There, in the pit of my stomach, I felt the anger. Right now, however, it was edged deeply with fear and uncertainty, and it was not responding to my attempts to access it. That would not do. I let myself momentarily forget where I was. I pushed aside the fact that Kylo Ren was watching me, appraising my worth to him. I pushed myself above the fact that directly before me, one of the Order's enemies, a species I was not completely familiar with, had already determined that I was no threat to him. I pushed past the strange hum that seemed to permeate the walls and floor in this part of the base, focused on my own thoughts and memories, searching for some mote of anger that would overcome my fear.

I became conscious of the sound of my own breathing, of the accelerated beat of my own heart. Carefully, I pushed that unnecessary input behind me. I found a dark, quite space in my mind where I searched for the feeling, attached to a memory, which would best suit me. Almost immediately, the aquiline features of General Hux came to my thoughts, and I felt the stirrings of my ire. Gently, I nursed the fragile embers, fed them, until they glowed. I opened my eyes.

The Bothan spy was watching me through black, narrowed eyes, his long, almost feline face hardened as he anticipated whatever pain I might bring him. It was then that I realized the mistake behind my first impulse. Studying his face, I could almost see the mental walls that he had constructed around himself; walls he had used to defend from whatever the interrogators had done to him before. I could tell, from his eyes and from his body language that attacking him head on with yet more pain might _eventually_ result in a weakening of his resolve, but it would be a hard fought battle. At a loss, I thought back to my limited experiences with my powers, which brought me back to that white face framed by neat red hair which I had so come to hate.

Despite my considerations, I knew I could not tap my sexual energy in this context. On a being that was unable to defend itself, and one which had already been subjected to other torments, the very thought nauseated me. Whether or not this being was my enemy, I would not do it. I found myself wondering if it were possible to give others pleasure in a way that was separate from lust and desire. I had to try. As any other specialist, I had to find the right tool for this task.

I looked inward once more, searching for some memory, some situation that would serve me. I needed something pure, something untainted by despair or anger or malicious triumph. Very little in my recent life fit those specifications, as even my joy upon being chosen by Phasma to accompany her was colored by my sharp ambition, my desire to use her to gain something for myself.

I burrowed down further within myself, deeper than I'd ever self-examined. Past my years of training and conditioning, past my life as a child under the unquestionable, firm control of the Order. With some pain and heavy resistance, I even pushed through the terror and anger of that day when I was stolen from my home.

There, in a place in my mind that I didn't know still existed, I felt it.

Warmth. It was feeble, it was flickering, but it was there. And as I observed it, it became pure and clear like a candle flame. Disjointed sensations and emotions wanly began to show themselves. Warmth. Security. The unquestioning surety of a child, safe with her family, and knowing that as long as she had them, nothing in the dark could hurt her.

I suddenly caught the scent of baking meal bread, the sensation of a warm blanket inside the security of my home, the deep, sonorous timbre of my father's voice as he said something funny, and the tinkling sound of my mother's laughter. Disconnected feelings and sensory memories from countless times mingled into one sensation.

Shivers expanded throughout my body and I could feel every single hair stand up, so vivid was the memory, so painfully poignant. It was a memory that I didn't know that I still had. And it was exactly what I needed.

I opened my eyes again, noticing only vaguely that they were damp, and I looked at the Bothan spy. His guarded face was now bore shades of confusion as he looked at me. As I brought that warmth, that feeling of safety outward, I bathed him in it. I shared it with him, and made it as a warm breeze, washing him in the contentment, the joy, the innocent, unguarded bliss. His angular face softened, his eyes widened, and I could see the muscles in his shoulders and neck relax slightly. His walls were weakening. There were now holes in his fortifications.

I continued to search that time of my past life, before I was conscious of the evils of the galaxy or the two warring sides and my positive emotions were untainted. There was joy, as I gathered talin berries with a younger girl, my sister Helia, in a forest glade near my family's home. Impatient anticipation of the talin tartlets my mother would bake with them. I remembered bubbling humor, as I chased a boy, my older brother Garot, with a stick that had become a sword in my hand, and he, the evil wizard. Most subtly and pervasively, I felt peace. It surrounded me, and suddenly I wasn't nursing a small flame, I was radiating its light.

I opened my eyes, and the interrogation chamber looked much the same as it had before I'd discovered my previously unknown well of joy: dark, wreathed in shadow with a single island of pale light shining down on the Bothan. Yet, everything had changed. While I couldn't see it, I could feel my positive emotions giving power to the Force, and I did my best to focus it toward him.

His face was slack, downcast, lost in memories of his own. His mental fortifications were broken, and I knew that his defenses were down. It was as if he welcomed me in. I knew that if I had Kylo Ren's ability to search memories, the Bothan's mind would be an open book to me. However, the Force had dealt me a different hand. I could not read him. He had to tell me himself, and I knew that making him relax was only the first step. Kylo Ren was still watching, evaluating how I conducted this interrogation, and I knew that this was not enough.

That is when I shunted aside the warm, fuzzy memories and reached for that writhing mass of anger and hatred. I pulled it up, through the pleasant warmth, willed it to waylay my naive, nostalgic happiness. I let my hatred of General Hux and the corruption of power that he represented, of the situation that allowed men like that to flourish while good men like Amon Rhidan fell. Of the injustices and horrors that were daily occurences to those that comprised the lower class on this base. I looked at the Bothan, and with all of that conjured negativity, I whipped him with a lash of wrathful Force energy so caustic, so riddled with barbs, that he jerked in the restraints and cried out. I didn't sever the connection, I held on, unblinking, and sank deeper into him. My heart hardened and my gut clenched against the overwhelming emotions warring inside of me.

"You have something that we want," I told the Bothan, who was at turns writhing and straining, shudders going through him as I stared at him with the full power of my hateful Gaze.

I heard Kylo Ren behind me. He said, simply, quietly, " **a name**."

The Bothan resisted, tried to fight me, and I tightened the grip I had on his heart, sinking the poisonous barbs further into it.

"Give us the name." My voice was even, though the tension in my whole body could be heard in it. I tightened the jagged grip further, sucking out the warmth. His face paled and now the black eyes were wide, bulging. A hoarse, keening wail, at once so alien to my human ears and yet so universally recognizable, was coming from him. It wasn't only of pain, it was of unadulterated despair. It made me feel ice cold down to the bone.

"Lor San Tekka," he sobbed. I immediately released my hold on him. He sagged against the restraints so bonelessly that I knew he would be on the floor without their support. "I gave the fragment to Lor San Tekka,"

His body quaked with the strength of his anguish, but for a long moment there was no other sound. I didn't understand the information he'd confessed, but it was apparently what they had sought.

I heard the door open, and around either side of me two elite stormtrooper guards entered and approached the Bothan spy. I didn't miss the brief glances exchanged between them as they opened his restraints and grasped his unresisting, weeping body around his upper arms. I heard a com pip behind me from Kylo Ren.

" **Alert General Hux that the spy has been broken."** His voice was low, throaty as he spoke into his com, but I could hear the edge of excitement. **"Broadcast a search order for 'Lor San Tekka' immediately.** "

I watched as they dragged the Bothan spy away. He didn't seem to have the strength or will to move. The door closed behind them, and I stared after them blankly, all traces of my joy dissolved but for the faintest wisp at the edge of my awareness. Inside of me, my guilt over how fundamentally and irrevocably I had damaged the Bothan warred with my triumph over how quickly I had been able to accomplish what Kylo Ren had asked of me. It was all overlaid with a sense of profound exhaustion, and relentless cold that sank into me to my core.

I was taken away from my thoughts for a moment as a large hand, carefully at first, then firmly, wrapped around my upper arm from behind. I found myself leaning into it, though more for the comfort that the small contact provided than anything else. It could have been anyone's and I would have done the same. Yet..

" **You've done well,** " his vocoder-distorted voice rumbled in my ear. I felt the warmth of his chest at my back, His other hand mirrored the first so that they both rested on my arms, enclosing the back of me in the solid half circle of his upper body. A wave of heat expanded outward sharply from my chest, momentarily overshadowing my inner conflict, and I leaned further back into him. I closed my eyes. Breathed deep. I felt his chest rise and fall with his breath and warmth began to return to my extremities again.

"I destroyed him," I uttered, staring straight ahead, allowing the presence behind me to anchor me, to drive away the unwelcome thoughts and feelings.

" **Yes. You did,"** he rumbled. I could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest, and my heart seized as I was struck by another flash of heat. " **And he gave me what I wanted. What none of the other interrogation methods were able to.** " There was a pause, and I felt the fingers shift on my arms, tighten fractionally. The breath caught in my throat. " **With some training, your talent could rival my own.** "

Warmth bloomed between my legs, and my breaths began coming hard and fast, but still I felt the guilt, the bittersweet sting of stolen happiness, the residual anger that had fueled my terrible weapon. I felt that all of these things, compounded with the desire I felt for Kylo Ren, would swell up inside of me until I burst. Split at the seams, with my heart and my pain pouring out of me.

Suddenly his closeness, the touch of his gloves on my arms through the fabric of my clothing was excruciating. I felt myself withdraw, pulling away from him physically until suddenly he wasn't touching me anymore. I still felt his body warmth as he was yet that close. I heard the creak of leather as a fist clenched.

I turned toward him and unhooked my veil so that it dangled from one side, and I let him see my face, upon which I knew was reflected everything that I was experiencing at that moment.

"I am not sure I can do that again," I said, my voice cracking slightly as I spoke the terrifying truth to him. I was incapable of guile or deception at this moment, and as I looked at his impassive mask, searching for some sign that he understood me, there was none to be found in that expressionless visage.

" **I can see that this ordeal has strained you. I can teach you to wield this power while protecting yourself from it.** "

"No," I said, startling myself and, from what I could tell, him. But I repeated the word. "No. Kylo Ren, I don't think you fully understand. Through my own memories, I willed him to relive a powerful moment of joy, though I know not what it was. And then I forever tainted whatever that memory was with my wrath. I corrupted it irreversibly." I glanced down at his chest, clothed in black, and I wondered if Kylo Ren possessed the ability to feel empathy, or if it had been trained out of him like the soldiers. I still didn't know anything about this man, not really. Only what he chose to show me or what he let slip past his guard. Oddly, I was struck with a profound sense of annoyance.

" **You must learn** **to contain it, Riala. Despite your efforts to limit its range, I felt it.** " he said, his voice quieting. " **It was... potent.** "

"As I look at you, I can tell that you feel nothing." I felt that I was seeing him for the first time. I was too angry and overwhelmed to watch my words or remember to whom I spoke. "His pain meant nothing to you. My pain means nothing to you, as long as you get what you need." My next words came out in a rush, my mouth running far ahead of my thoughts as I spoke what I felt as I felt it.

"You're as blank inside as your mask. I know why you wear it now."

" **Be careful,** " his warning a staccato purr.

"Let me see you. Whatever you are, whatever it is that you're hiding behind there, show me. You've seen the darkest parts of me. Lock me up for my insolence if you will. Torture me, kill me. I will do nothing else for you until you look at me with your own eyes."

The silence stretched for a moment where neither of us moved, though Kylo Ren's prickling aura, like hackles, were raised, spiking and sparking, permeating the air with the Force that seemed to be drawn to him. I could see his fists tightening.

" **Fine.** "


	19. The Monster Behind the Mask

His arms lifted, pushed the hood back from his head, revealing the shape of the helmet and mask that he wore underneath it. It was shaped close to his head, and now I could see that it truly resembled a skull, with a small flared base. Images of the jawless soldier, of horrific scarring, skin like melted paste after healing from acid burns, all of these possibilities flashed into my mind and I prepared to keep my face from betraying my potential revulsion.

He gripped the back of the helmet. I heard a click, and the nose and mouth cover slid down, disengaged.

I didn't dare breathe. Kylo Ren looked down, lifted away the black skull that I had come to associate inextricably with him and everything he was.

When he looked at me again, it was with two large, wide-set dark eyes in a pale face. and I exhaled in one long breath of fundamentally disappointed disbelief.

He was perfectly average. Extraordinarily unremarkable. I placed him around thirty.

"What... that's your face?" I heard my voice say on its own. The slightest expression of incredulity passed over his jarringly transparent features, which, if a bit small-chinned and nose-heavy, a little big in the ears, were completely human. He was almost handsome but for the sour downturn of his full lips, the barest hint of a frown on his wide mouth

"Disappointed?" He asked, reserved and defensive, and I heard his voice for the first time without the vocoder. Male, human, deep, yes. But it was not the same rich, oozing timbre I'd grown accustomed to.

My face answered before I could, a small tilt of the head and a crook in my brows betraying my innermost thoughts as I tried not to answer what was on my lips. His face tightened.

"Why do you hide your face? You look... normal." I couldn't believe this was the same person, but there was the black helmet in his black-gloved hand. It was a little underwhelming after I mentally readied myself for something hideous, something which would explain why he hid his face from everyone around him. I took a step forward, to better study the angles of his bare face and the wavy black hair that framed it, which was mussed from the interior of his helmet. He pulled back, tensed slightly, and I could tell that he wasn't used to this level of scrutiny from others.

"It doesn't matter what I look like. This," he said shaking the helmet lightly in his hand. "This is the face that the galaxy knows and will remember."

"You wear that so you can hide your perfectly normal face?" I asked, bafflement and irritation sitting very unpleasantly on top of my prior upset. His straight brows creased in the center, making him appear even younger with the near-frowning set of his mouth. I felt the rising tide of his power again, and I realized from the rise and fall of his chest that I was treading on dangerous ground, but as I looked at the young man's face, I didn't care about his precious pride.

"I wear it because my true face doesn't matter. I armor myself in the fear it brings to the hearts of my enemies," he said, his voice had taken on a sharp edge, as sharp as the Force aura I felt coalescing around him. But still, after hearing him speak for so long with the other voice, the fake voice, nothing he said was having the same effect. His every self-acclaiming word only added to my irritation, and still he continued. "You've performed your duty for the First Order admirably for someone so inexperienced, but you are still my student. Don't forget to whom you are speaking." He managed to sound both superior and sullen. "Showing my face changes nothing."

He was wrong, it changed everything.

"How did someone so young become... _this_?" My hand motion encompassed his entire body. I could sense that my line of questioning was entirely unwelcome, but my frustration overrode my sense of propriety and I felt my fists tighten, itch, as if they craved to throttle something, or someone.

I felt the tiny pinpricks of his Force aura pierce my skin, numbing it as if a nerve had become pinched, but it did not intimidate me. My eyes flashed, and his narrowed in return, and I could see the faint sheen of perspiration rising on his upper lip. I knew that what I was saying was irrational, that I was inviting my own death upon me. Still, the grief and anger and malice, all of the things that I had called upon to crush the Bothan, still writhed inside of me. The air thickened, sharpened as we faced off, the atmosphere around us taking on a combative edge. I was angry, and right now, Kylo Ren was the one responsible. At that moment, I didn't care if he killed me. I wanted to slap him on his clear, smooth face. Doing so would make anything that came after worth it.

"Don't push me, girl," he threatened through normal, even teeth, rankling me with his his diminutive use of the word 'girl.' He was far too young to be treating me like a child. "You know what I can-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. My hand, a blur through the air whistled faintly before it connected with his cheek. The percussive pop rang out in the small, silent room at the same time as the loud clatter of his helmet when it dropped to the floor. My palm still stung as I withdrew it.

For a moment that seemed to last for an eternity, I watched him slowly turn to look at me again as the strength behind the slap had shunted his face to the side. He was the picture of blank, white-faced shock but for the red mark my hand had left on his cheek. His dark eyes were wide, brows raised as high as they could go as he looked in utter disbelief at the girl who had just struck him.

I couldn't believe what I'd just done. It seemed like a dream, like a mad delusion. Surely he was going to kill me now, once the shock wore off. But for some reason, I didn't feel fear. I felt intense, all-consuming, thoroughly pervasive heat, only magnified by the prickling livewire feel in the air around us.

My face was like fire, my chest was boiling, my breaths came hard and fast. All the air seemed to leave the room but for that steadily growing pressure that pushed around me and against my inner ear. He reached forward then, black leather gauntlet clawed as if he would rip me to shreds. He grabbed me by my arm, hurting me with how tightly his fingers gripped me, and he pulled me toward him.

His other arm clamped behind me and forced my body to press against his, an aggressive embrace. One of his boots was forward between my feet, and my front met the long-legged stretch of his body. He was breathing hard and the sliver of black eyes glittered under tense lids. The color which came to his other cheek matched the one I'd slapped, and the warmth that pervaded my body seemed to sink down and gather, pooling in my belly. Somehow, our intense emotional standoff had become something very different. I was still angry, but I also wanted to rip his clothes off. I needed to touch him with my bare skin.

Using my teeth, and without breaking eye contact, I bit the fingertip of one of my gloves and pulled it off. I placed my hand, gingerly, over the place where I'd slapped him before. As he watched me, I let the heat of my arousal siphon upwards and sink into him. Kylo Ren's breath hitched, and I felt his chest swell beneath his black clothing. He gripped me tighter, which only tightened the sense of urgency I felt.

I snaked my fingers around the back of his head, through his thick black hair, and crushed his face to mine, smashing our lips together in a show of angry desire. His mouth was soft, wet, hungry, as it touched mine. Our tongues darted and tasted each other even as our lips warred for dominance. He began pressing forward, and overcome by his height and superior strength, I could only stumble back, allow him to surround me as he curved over me, bore down on me. I backed into something hard; the interrogation harness, a flat surface with small, hard components which dug into my back. Still Kylo Ren pressed into me, trapped me between the cold surface and the burning fever which seemed to have overcome him. His mouth and mine were locked, toeing the line between kissing and bludgeoning.

We broke for a moment to breathe, and I found my hands were on him. Not to push him away. To feel the firmness of his body beneath his clothing. Fingers, working independently, searched for a way to get beneath the fabric, to touch more skin. He seemed to have the same idea, because the next thing I knew, his gloves were off, and his bare hands, large, warm, smooth, were touching my face and my neck. Every inch of skin on skin contact drove me mad, and seemed to do the same as the sparking sexual charge I felt spreading into him unfiltered through my hands and penetrating his skin. The slickness of my arousal only echoed my thoughts; I wanted him to touch the throbbing seat of my arousal with one of those hands.

Kylo Ren began to tug at the fabric of my uniform, and ended up ripping it at the seams and baring my shoulder. He bent forward, moved his mouth to my newly exposed neck. His hands slipped beneath the edge of the ripped fabric to loosen it more while his lips and tongue and teeth sent bolts of agonizing fire straight to my swollen clit and to the muscles clenching inside of me.

My hands made their way under the split in the front of his robes. I felt the first hint of a taut stomach just above the waist of his soft black pants and I curled my fingers around the waist and urgently pulled him harder into me, forcing his groin to collide and abrade with mine. The hardness of his growing cock pressed against the layers of fabric between us. Far, far too many layers.

"How the fuck do you take these damn clothes off," I grunted breathlessly. He uttered a nonverbal sound in response, removed his belt, began to open the front of his top layer with one hand revealing a ribbed, tight black undershirt. I heard another seam tear as his other hand, too large to fit, slipped under my clothes, seeking a breast or an erect, tender nipple. My own hands touched skin, felt a pelvic bone, the clenched muscles of his lower abdomen and further beneath the waist, the start of coarse, curling hair. His skin was boiling hot and faintly damp, a small layer of sweat to ease the friction of our touching skin.

I felt all of the muscles in his hips flex, prodding me with his rock hard erection. Cradling his head in the crook of my arm, I pushed him down further, seeking to bring the hot, moist orifice of his mouth down to my upward-swelling breast, but he resisted.

My frustration erupted from me in a growl, and he responded by shocking me with a spark of pure Force energy on the side of my bare neck. I jumped, startled, and then furious. He bucked backwards from my retaliation: a shock of power far closer to his genitals than he would have liked. Kylo Ren's face was an unbridled meld of inflamed anger and lust, an expression which I was sure mirrored my own. I wanted to slap him again, but as if sensing my thoughts, a large hand clamped around my free wrist and held it against the cold metal surface of the interrogation harness.

"Do not strike me again," he warned, flexing his hips forward, grinding his cock against me through the layers of fabric. Somehow he only seemed more provoked by our mutual anger, more incensed. I couldn't deny that, as if drawn by some mysterious magnetism, I found my groin moving to meet his, my thigh wrapping around the column of his legs to lock him against me, even as I wanted to lash out at him and cause him pain.

"I thought I told you to stay out of my thoughts," I said through clenched teeth, trying and failing to catch my breath, to breathe away the burning anger brewing inside of me, even as the throbbing, aching hunger in me made me seek to touch every part of him with every part of myself.

"I don't have to read thoughts to know that you have wanted to fuck me since the moment you saw me. You can't deny the effect my appearance had on you."

I stopped what I was doing, my leg slid down his to the floor again, though he didn't seem to notice. Disbelief and resentment batted away my arousal. I started pushing him away, slapping his hands and pushing him so that he would look at the expression of 'are you fucking kidding me' on my face right then.

"your helmet has nothing to do with it," I said incredulously. "I was preparing myself for the absolute worst." He frowned at me, pretentious and dubious, his shirt disheveled under his open robes, showing a flash of firm, pale stomach, a line of fine dark hair trailing from beneath his navel and disappearing beneath his uniform.

"I saw the way you looked at me. You offered yourself to me."

"You must be joking. You don't actually think that anyone would want to wake up next to that thing, do you?" I punctuated my statement by motioning to the black helmet sitting on the floor. "I said what I had to so that you might teach me. When you turned sex down, I was _relieved_."

He slammed a hand into the interrogation harness next to my head and I jumped. I could see him shift his stance as he tried to accommodate his raging hard-on and maintain some semblance of self control over his temper. His face, so easy to read, reflected every emotion he was feeling. The air crackled.

He opened his mouth to say something biting from the looks of it, but he was interrupted as the door to the hallway behind us opened. I heard the start of a trooper's voice, a single syllable.

Without flinching, he twisted his upper body around, threw an arm straight out behind him, and hit the stormtrooper standing in the doorway directly in their torso with a Force-fueled battering ram. Arms and legs flailed as the soldier was thrown backwards. There was a loud crash outside in the hallway. White helmeted faces in the corridor followed the trajectory of the soldier and then turned back to us before the door closed again.

A snarky jibe was on my lips, but the deadly look in Kylo Ren's dark eyes killed it immediately. He let his breath out in a long, shuddering sigh, his eyes closed.

I watched curiously as he tugged his shirt back in place, and bent to retrieve his belt and gloves from the floor. The wrath prickling the air retreated as reality settled heavily on top of us. The moment was gone, and it was apparent in the thinning of the air and the retreat of his Force aura. I could sense that both of our thoughts were finally catching up to us. Still, the effects of our heated argument lingered in the way his jaw tightened and his dark eyes flickered to my mouth, and the way my breathing was still quickened.

"Kylo Ren," I started, my voice breaking. I cleared my throat, looked down at his large, long fingered hands holding the belt and gauntlets, fidgeting with them subtly. "Please forgive me." Even if he was infuriating and confusing to me, even if everything he did made no sense, I knew that I had greatly overstepped by insulting him. The blood had drained from my face as I considered the fact that while I was not a slave anymore, it didn't give me license to speak so uncivilly to the man who'd agreed to be my teacher.

His eyes flickered between mine, and I didn't see anger there. The black pools were still and deep as he searched my face.

"We both acted... impulsively." His voice was quiet and thick. He swallowed. "I tested you too soon. I was impatient. It achieved the desired results, but perhaps I was too eager." My face burned when he said the word 'eager,' because even now, I wanted him. The fight was just gone from me. Even now, he showed restraint, consideration for my well being, so different from General Hux.

There was a com pip, and a voice came through his helmet which looked up at us blankly from the floor.

" _Kylo Ren, forgive the disturbance, sir. General Hux wants to see you,_ " the tinny female voice was prompt but careful. Doubtless this person knew what had happened to the last trooper that had walked in on us. " _He says it's urgent._ "

Kylo Ren closed his eyes, spots of color on his cheeks separate from the fading mark I'd left on him. I hadn't hit him that hard, but I suspected that he hadn't been slapped in a very long time, if ever. When he opened his eyes again, his face was neutral, so much like a mask. I wondered how long it had been since he'd smiled.

With a steady breath, he began to dress himself; he re-clasped the belt around his waist and pulled on his gloves, all without any sense of hurry despite the fact that General Hux was expecting him. My coiled braids had begun to come loose, and when he bent down to retrieve his helmet, I followed his lead and attempted to prod my hair back into passable condition. Kylo Ren paused once he straightened out, looking at the face of his helmet in his hands. Finally, after a very awkward silence, he spoke, quietly and evenly.

"Riala, I see that I must teach you to master your Force abilities so that they do not control you." He glanced up, and in his eyes I saw the briefest hint of chagrin. "I also see room for my own improvement."

I didn't know what to say to this. Out of all of the ways he had surprised me, it was this admittance of fault in himself that made me speechless. He looked down and slowly pulled the helmet over his head, sliding it into place. The muzzle locked in, and I looked at the face of Kylo Ren once more. When he spoke, the low, gritty timbre was almost soothing to me in its familiarity.

" **I am granting you access to a section of my secure data store. Specifically pertaining the collected teachings of the Sith. I want you to devote your time to studying it, learning our noble history, of which you are now part. I hope it will aid you to better understand the power you contain.** " He tugged his half cape so that it lay flat, and he pulled the hood low over the black and silver skull, and then he was the commander-inquisitor.

"Yes, Kylo Ren," I responded automatically, the drain from the day fully wearing on me now. Twice I had expended the full force of my emotions, and I could feel the effects in the way my muscles ached and in the low throbbing of a headache that was starting to form in the base of my skull.

" **The information which you gathered from the Bothan has set into motion events which cannot be undone,** " he said, his voice rumbling, a hint of the same reserved excitement I'd sensed before the interrogation. Everything since seemed to be forgotten, at least for now. " **I suspect that my duties call me away from the base** **.** **But we will remain in contact.** " I nodded. He seemed hesitant to leave the room, though, even as I heard another message pipe into his helmet. He tilted his head to the side to listen. When he spoke next, it was to the voice on the other end of the line.

" **General Hux's impatience does not supersede my authority in matters of the Force. As it was my charge that granted him this information, he will have to wait until I conclude my business with her.** " His voice was a low, caustic growl, and part of me felt a fragment of pity for the person on the other end, but I heard no further signs of communication.

His final words were for me. " **Learn what you can of the Sith. Otherwise, find something that provides a productive outlet for your energies.** " I felt his eyes on me as I bowed. Then he swept through the doors and was gone.

Moments later, I left the empty room. All the guards at the doors let me pass through the hall and into the lift without question. While I was momentarily taken aback by their show of recognition, I wasn't surprised. I was Kylo Ren's student, and that fact conjured a small, tremulous pride within me. I carried my depleted body a little bit higher as the lift platform took me back to the security bureau.


	20. The Captain and the Teacher

I slept for sixteen hours, and I slept deeply. When I woke, I felt a sense of heavy unease. Quickly fading fragments of images and sensations seemed to adhere to my skin and cling to me like a fragile, sticky web. Even when I could no longer remember anything specific about my dreams, they hung over me as I showered and dressed.

A message alert on my terminal, however, pulled me out of my morning grogginess. When I saw who it was from, my pulse quickened. The message came from aboard his flagship, the Finalizer, a few hours ago, though where the star destroyer was I hadn't the slightest idea.

'How much progress have you made on the tasks I assigned to you?' Of course. The things he had instructed me to do before we separated the day before. I didn't know what to say. I doubted he would be impressed with the full night of sleep I'd gotten, so I left the answer window blank. My stomach growled and I remembered that I had not eaten properly in far too long. I knew I couldn't accomplish much when distracted by hunger, so I sent a request that my rations be brought to my quarters. For whatever reason, I couldn't bring myself to exit into the base proper. Truly, I knew at least part of the reason. With Kylo Ren gone to attend to matters pertaining to the results of my interrogation the day before, I felt alone and unprotected knowing that those I did not wish to see were still present somewhere on the Starkiller.

As I ate, ravenous by now, I began looking into the data files Kylo Ren had given me access to, figuring I may as well try to accommodate his wishes. I was surprised when a familiar name, from my previous superficial delve into public records, came up immediately as I scanned the first set of documents. Darth Sidious's collected manuscripts, which I had chosen to read by chance, hooked me straight away. Also known by the name of Palpatine, Sidious was a truly powerful Dark Side Force user, on top of ruling the Galactic Empire for many decades until it fell at the hands of the Jedi and the Republic.

I was fascinated to discover that Sidious was a passionate scholar, with keen insights into the practices and doctrine of the Sith. His writings and personal notes painted a picture of a man with extraordinary intelligence and an honest, almost giddy enthusiasm for the subject. Part of me was actually sad that I would never get to meet him. Though I had never met him, and hadn't actually known about him until very recently, I felt a pang of loss for all of the acquired knowledge of his life's experiences, gone forever except in what he'd chosen to leave behind. He was dead anyway, so I allowed myself to entertain fantasies of sitting down with him to learn from him and talk to him myself, as if his notes were spoken to me personally in conversation.

I was surprised to find that many hours had passed since I'd sat in front of the terminal, but my innate thirst for knowledge had rarely ever been indulged before. All the same, my back was sore from sitting, and I was getting hungry again. I decided to take a break. Above the terminal was stored a portable data screen. I grabbed this, transferred Kylo Ren's data stores onto it securely, and finally stepped foot outside of my quarters for the first time in nearly a full day.

I divided my attention about 70-30 between the data screen and my surroundings as I made my way to the commissary, just enough to avoid hitting people or running into things. It was evening, and the start of many regular shift workers' rest day, so the common mess was going to be crowded and noisy. As engrossed as I was in Darth Sidious's personal account, I preferred somewhere more quiet, so after glancing at an intersection directory, I went to a different section. The mid-level officer's dining hall was bound to be smaller and quieter, I figured. If they allowed me in, I would take my hot drink and food to a quiet corner and continue reading.

I looked up long enough to greet the troopers standing guard at the entrance, to keep lower-level enlisted and non-military personnel out of the officer's mess, but when they saw me, they let me in. Again, I was pleasantly surprised with the influence I'd gained. It gave me a heady rush to be recognized when so much of my life had been spent finding new ways to escape notice and make myself invisible. I had heard music on the outside of the doors, but when they opened, I realized just how loud it was.

Apparently the mid-level officer's mess was currently in the throes of a party. Tables along the wall were neglected as officers of all levels, and in all manner of casual clothing and uniform, were chatting and drinking, laughing and having animated discussions in the main part, and upstairs on a second level. A few were even dancing. Some, I noticed with lingering interest were obviously dressed to garner sexual attention, and I certainly appreciated their efforts.

I would not be able to read here, I realized, not if I wanted to absorb anything. Carefully, with my eyes darting between the floor in front of me and Sidious's margin notes on the Great Schism, I wove my way between dancers and around those engaged in conversation and approached the counter. I ordered a hot herb water and some fruit, something portable to eat. As I waited, my eyes kept straying back to the data screen. When my teacher had charged me with reading up on the Sith, I expected something clinical and boring. And while most of the documents collected by the emperor were rather dry, his constant interjections and interpretations kept it interesting.

When the server returned with my food and drink, I had to make a decision. Either I had to put away my datapad so I could hold both my hot drink and my ration, or I'd have to balance all three so I wouldn't have to tear my eyes away. I chose the latter, of course, though it was a bit more difficult to juggle everything. I headed toward the door.

Over the music, a laugh that was like the deep tolling of a bell cut straight to me and I froze where I stood and like an automatic reflex, my head moved up to peer through the crowd to find its source.

I looked up just in time to see the elbow as it flew out of nowhere and smashed sharply into my nose. After that, my vision blacked out but for the red sparkling points of light that, to me, looked the way I imagined Kylo Ren's prickling power would probably appear if I could see it.

Seconds later, my vision cleared, but I was looking up from the floor, damp, smelling of my hot herb water, and dazed, at the blurry faces that were looking down at me. The man who'd hit me was kneeling beside me, clearly intoxicated and frantic.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you, I'm so sorry," he slurred in a flood of words. My face was starting to hurt now. Throbbing pain radiating from the center of my face, and I tasted the coppery bite of blood in my mouth. Awkwardly, I pulled myself into a sitting position, unaided, and I touched my face. Numbly, I pulled my fingertips away wet and red. The man's behavior only became more agitated, and I heard murmurings from the others. "Oh no, I'm so sorry, it was an accident" he said, reaching for me, but stopping just shy of touching me. He was young enough to be a lower ranking officer and he seemed terrified.

I heard one of the murmurs, 'that's Kylo Ren's student,' in hushed tones. As the room came more into focus, I started to pull myself up into a sitting position, unaided. The music still pulsed on, but I could hear no conversation in my immediate vicinity.

'Someone should call a medic,' another voice whispered, but no one did anything. I realized, with a jolt of disbelief, that they were frightened of me. Anxiety began to rise up in me as I looked around and saw multiple pairs of eyes on me, uncomfortably shifting, and others pointedly looking away or wandering off to a different part of the room entirely. My drink cup was on the floor, and the rations were scattered. Being the center of attention made me feel very unsafe. I looked for an exit and started to consider getting up and fleeing.

"Get out of the way, you drunken fools," a deep female voice said. I felt a tug inside of my chest so acute that it almost hurt when I heard that voice. The crowd parted and I could only stare as Captain Phasma, dressed to kill in exquisitely tailored casual clothes; pants that were loose but fell like liquid over the swell of her hips and poured down her thighs, and a long-sleeved top with a high collar but a low, narrow neckline that hinted at the creamy bosom beneath. Her eyes met mine and I could see that she recognized me immediately. I felt faint again, and the the red points of light were encroaching around the margins. Her form only seemed to swell and fill my vision, her strong, beautiful face and her white blonde hair.

She lowered herself easily so that she knelt in front of me. Even then, her height was such that she had to look down at me. The low-level officer that had knocked me down was standing back now, nervous.

"Are you alright?" she asked, at once reserved and intimate, and my surroundings began to fade out into unimportance. I felt a large, warm hand on my knee, and despite myself and my pain, I became flushed and warm.

"I think so, yes. I wasn't watching where I was going," I looked up at the man attached to the offending elbow, and gestured placatingly. "I'll be fine, it's fine."

He exchanged looks with another officer. Everyone seemed to be confident that the situation was being handled now, and my audience dissolved back into the rest of the room. The captain reached over and picked something up from the ground next to me, my data screen. She glanced at it, and then at me, with a smirk that didn't reach her eyes. Nonetheless, it made her face glow.

"May I give you a hand?" The hand that was on my knee lifted, and reached for mine. Breathlessly, I took it, and for an exhilarating moment, I felt like gravity did not apply to me as she gently and fluidly pulled me to my feet. Once standing, a wave of dizziness came and went, but her hand held me steady. "I am surprised to see you," she said. I noted that she had thus far avoided saying my name and thought it curious. Her eyes glittered with what I could only imagine were many unspoken thoughts.

"Captain Phasma. Sir," I said, my words a sigh. She hadn't let go of my hand yet, and without thinking, my fingers tightened.

"May I ask your name?" She said carefully, pointedly. I realized then why she hadn't yet used it. How else would I have come to be where I was, if I were still a slave. She must have assumed that I was here under false pretenses. While that might have been true a few weeks ago, pride welled up inside of me when I was able to answer her with full honesty.

"I am Riala, student to the Commander-Inquisitor and Master of the Knights of Ren," I answered, trying to keep my voice steady, to keep the juvenile egotism out of my words. When she heard my name, the outer corners of her eyes crinkled with genuine delight and her pink lips curved into a perfect 'U.'

"Riala," she repeated. "Your reflexes need some work, but it seems as though the rest of you has managed to do quite well." She handed me my data pad, never once breaking her gaze from my eyes except to glance at my lips for a fraction of a second. "Let's get you cleaned up. May I escort you to a more subdued corner?" I nodded numbly, wanting nothing more at that moment than to stay within reaching distance of this glorious pillar of a woman. She flagged down a droid serving drinks and told it to bring hot water, towels, and more of whatever I'd had before I fell, and then she moved the hand from mine. She bent her arm and moved my hand to the crook of her elbow. I felt as though she were a noble escorting her lady. I let her guide me through the crowd, which stayed well clear of us, through a door toward the back. Beyond, there was a smaller room with chatting patrons and a quieter crowd, edged by small, mostly enclosed alcoves.

My face was on fire, both from the throbbing pain of my injured nose and from the very real electrification I felt being in her proximity. She was just as tall and strong looking as I remembered, though I had never seen her wearing such bewitching attire. It took all of my self control to not draw my eyes down the thin sliver of white skin that seemed to point between her breasts. She led me into an empty alcove, a square lined in couches where the music in the main part of the mess was more muted. She sat me down next to one corner and took a seat to the other side, leaning back coolly and crossing her legs as she looked at me. The droid came with tea, a plate of fruit, some small towels, and a bottle of heated water.

"You've been busy, Riala," she said, humor in the edge of her baritone voice as she bent forward, took one of the small towels in her hand and dampened it from the bottle of hot water. Sublimely, she leaned forward and began to blot at the blood on my face, gentle but deliberate. I tried to keep from wincing, but the entire center of my face was on fire with pain, and every light touch sent shocks of pain through me. She was clearly no medic, but I enjoyed every second of it. "When I heard of the General's demise and the Lieutenant General's promotion, there was talk among my favorites of a mysterious woman with piercing brown eyes that had stolen the favor of both. I didn't want to hope, in case I was wrong, but part of me knew that the woman was you, and that you'd managed to use your talents to save yourself."

Red with my blood, she set the small cloth aside and took a clean one, dampened it, and, ever so gently began to dab at my upper lip where some of the blood had dripped. Her liquid grey eyes were focused intently on my mouth, and I was scared to breathe. I feared that the faintest puff of air might dispel this beautiful illusion.

"Captain, sir," I started, but so many words fought to escape me that none could. Subtly, imperceptibly, I inched forward on my seat, desiring nothing more than to lean into her, feel her firm body. My eyes flickered to that enthralling line of bare skin on her chest, and I could see the hint of a white scar that disappeared beneath the shirt under her collar bone. I longed to see the rest of it.

"When I heard what happened, just two days after I endorsed your promotion," she spoke, and something in her tone made me look up to her face again. Her eyes conveyed old worries, though the rest of her expression was of carefully maintained composure. "That the Lieutenant General had sent you to his quarters after some minor insolence, I feared the worst. I thought that I had failed you by placing you so close to danger, and I could do nothing to amend it."

"How do you know these things?" I asked, curiously. She sat back, the pink-colored towelette resting on her thigh, drawing my eyes to it and to the muscle I could see beneath the fabric of her trousers. When I looked up again, she had a wry smile on her face.

"One benefit to befriending those that go unnoticed is that I gain their eyes. I know everything that happens on this base. Though apparently not enough. I heard nothing of you after that. Not until I heard whispers of the new advisor to Hux, and that he had stopped making use of slaves for his enjoyment." Her eyes glittered coldly. She didn't approve of him at all, not that it surprised me, as noble as she was, and as benevolent toward slaves and servants as she had shown herself to be. She was simply restricted from openly showing it due to her lesser rank, even now. I glanced down at my hands, which rested on my lap on top of the data screen, suddenly embarrassed.

"I did what I had to do, sir." I said quietly.

"I swear on the Supreme Leader, Riala, if you cast your eyes down in front of me again, I don't know what I'll do." The threat was spoken without malice, and my eyes immediately snapped back up, shame making my cheeks hot. She had never laid claim to me, but in my mind she would forever be the one to whom I owed my life and everything I had gained since the day that she first brought me back to her quarters. Some part of me would always be hers. "You're intelligent and resourceful. I sensed power in you that day, and I had hoped to help you advance using it, but it seems as though you are perfectly capable of managing that yourself."

My face only burned hotter at her praise, and I caught my eyes dropping to my lap again before I remembered what she'd said and looked upon her glowing face as it looked on me with focused pride. "I seem to have found the one thing that he himself didn't even know he wanted." I sorely wanted to brag, to tell her of all the ways that I'd mastered him behind closed doors, but I knew such information was best kept to myself. For a moment, she just looked at me with mingled wonder and pleasure.

A bolt of pain from my nose pulled me back to the present, and I winced, my hand touching my nose unconsciously.

"Riala, as far as you've come, I really think you should consider training your reflexes. Perhaps even some rudimentary self defense. Every time I see you, it seems, it was after just barely escaping a situation where a swift, well-timed strike or dodge would have prevented injury."

I sighed and nodded. She was right. It wasn't entirely my fault. Unless a slave were trained in the art of combat, usually for entertainment or troop training purposes, we didn't get any kind of training at all. It was best to have the lowest, largely outnumbering class be unable to defend themselves or even stage an uprising. She tilted her head while she studied me.

"I am sure you have many duties to attend to, as do I, but if your master does not object, perhaps I can yet provide you with some assistance. I don't know everything of the power, but I do know that many of those that can wield the Force are also competent fighters. When I am not away, and when you and I both have some time to spare, it might be beneficial for us to meet, for me to train you in the ways of fighting. I can teach you some basic stances and perhaps even some moves that will help you best utilize your frame against opponents that are larger and stronger."

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. Physical training? With Phasma? Yes yes yes. I tried to keep my feverish thoughts from showing in my expression, but something must have slipped because she chuckled.

"I will ask Kylo Ren," I said, a little too quickly. "But I suspect he would approve. He did tell me to find a productive outlet for all of my excess energy, in between my studies." I held up the data screen, but now the subject displayed on it no longer captured my interest as much as the prospect of being close to Phasma and of sharing in her extensive knowledge of combat. And of potentially being in a situation where we might find our bodies very close. She nodded, clearly pleased.

I could tell then that something had changed in the interim between our last encounter and this night. I knew that I had changed fundamentally. She was still stunning, and she still made the breath catch in my throat, but I no longer saw her as a shining goddess, whose divine whims had rescued me, saved me (thrice now.) I saw her as a very real, flesh and blood woman; magnificent in stature and bearing, yes, but also achingly, captivatingly human. I felt that I could speak to her now, if not as equals, then as two free women that greatly enjoyed one another's company. I could sense a change in her, too. Somehow she knew that I was not the same, starry-eyed slave girl, naive and breathless. Before, I had only dreamed of touching her bare skin, of returning the pleasure that she so expertly had given me. Now, I felt a strong desire and the will to act on it.

We ended up spending hours talking to one another about her whereabouts (she had been called away frequently over the last month to off base missions and cadet excursions,) or simply sharing in each other's company while the rest of the celebrations grew in intensity and volume around our little encapsulated bubble. Eventually, however, some others of Phasma's rank that were clearly on friendly terms with her found us and, stumbling slightly, flushed with drink, invited her to come with them to the shooting range for some sport with firearms. Sensing that this was something I could not take part in, I gracefully took my leave, exchanging smiles and one last heated look with the captain before departing. I did not remember the rest of the walk back to my quarters. I was barely aware of my feet touching the ground.

When I arrived, it wasn't until I saw myself in my washroom mirror that I realized that the entire middle of my face was black and red with bruising, centered on the bridge of my nose. I groaned outwardly. Phasma hadn't seemed to mind, though, she seemed just as attracted to me still as I was to her. Through my terminal, I ordered some pain meds to be delivered, and then I opened the message console to finally respond to Kylo Ren.

'Kylo Ren, I have learned much on Darth Sidious and his legacy. I would have very much liked to know him myself, but I am content to be able to read his words, at least. As for the other part of your directives, Captain Phasma has offered to train me in the ways of basic combat and self defense, by your leave.'

To my surprise, he answered almost immediately, and my pulse raced as I pictured him aboard his ship, somewhere in the vastness of the galaxy, talking directly to me at this very moment.

'Darth Sidious was a great man, I am pleased that you see this. Continue to learn from his manuscripts. As for the other matter, it's an excellent idea. You have much to learn, and physical training will only aid you in your self discipline. However, Riala, do try to stay focused on what she has to teach you. The effectiveness of the Captain's lesson may be impaired if you are unable to keep yourself from swooning.'

Even though he could not see me, my face burned hotly, stupefied by the teasing subtext of his words. He knew very well of Phasma and my history together, had felt the physical effects of it himself when he was inside of my thoughts. My utterly incomprehensible teacher was actually teasing me about it. I wondered if he were even the least bit jealous, perhaps, but dismissed the ridiculous notion immediately. After a moment, I responded, heat prickling my cheeks and a mischievous tug in my chest.

'There is more than one kind of outlet for excess energy, my teacher, but I will do my best to follow your wishes.' I hesitated before sending the cheeky response. I hit send. Again, his answer came quickly.

'I suggest you find a way to manage certain distractions on your own time. I can say with certainty that sometimes it is the only thing that works.'

I uttered a sharp laugh and then my eyes immediately darted around my empty quarters as if someone might have heard me. I was alone, of course, but for just a moment, I'd felt as if I'd had that bizarrely personal exchange with Kylo Ren in person. My cheeks and chest were hot and flushed, and as I settled in for a long night of reading, I found my thoughts pulled giddily in three directions; between my teacher, my captain, and my studies, and was unable to effectively absorb the words on the data screen before me for some time after.


	21. The Legacy of Darth Sidious

I spent the entire next day, under doctor's orders, resting and allowing the bacta patch to do its job on my injury while I continued to read. By the end of the evening, my bruised face had faded into one oblong blackish mark over the bridge of my nose. I'd also begun writing notes of my own, comparing my personal experiences with my recent awakening into the Force and those of Sith lords and servants past.

I reapplied the patch before going to sleep, grateful for my access to the base's most advanced medical care, but after a day without any sort of real physical activity, I was already starting to feel restless.

* * *

Out of respect for the works of a great man like Sidious, and with obedience to Kylo Ren's guidance, I followed my wise teacher's advice and managed my distractions first thing in the morning. With my lingering high spirits from my chance encounter with Phasma and my communication with Kylo Ren two nights ago, it wasn't difficult to get into the right mindset. I closed my eyes and leaned back comfortably in my bed with some appropriate music playing, and imagined that I was not alone. Languidly, I began to stroke myself awake; a most gentle way of starting the day.

I was in no hurry. I imagined that Captain Phasma was with me, that she had found me in my quarters after arriving with impeccable timing, of course. I focused on the sensations of my hand on my breasts, (a place which I usually neglected when masturbating, but which Phasma seemed to appreciate,) and my hand became hers.

Her large, lightly calloused, rounded fingertips massaged me and then strayed, conjuring goosebumps wherever they touched. Behind closed lids, it was Phasma's touch appreciating every inch of me, the way that she seemed to do when we were together. I was an expert when it came to pleasuring myself at this point, and the heat was already beginning to build, a mounting pressure in my lower spine. It was not so hard to imagine, then, that Phasma's was not the only pair of hands that lavished attention on me. In my mind, a man's hands, broad, long-fingered, smooth, appeared on the other end, gently stroking the sensitive arches of my feet, which, when stimulated, seemed to connect in a direct, white-hot, line straight to my groin. The hands began to slide up my calves, around my knees tickling their sensitive undersides, to my thighs.

I knew whose hands my brain had inserted, and the prospect of being touched by both Kylo Ren and Phasma simultaneously was an exciting situation that could only ever occur in my fantasies. I doubted she would ever want to have a man in bed for sex play, even if they never interacted with one another directly. Not to mention, at this point I wasn't sure I'd ever get to that level of intimacy with the strange, captivating man who was my teacher. Fantasy Phasma,however, was not opposed to sharing me with him. Kylo Ren's hands were between my thighs, now, spreading them apart, and then his fingers were inside of me as Phasma's mouth lavished my nipples, one hand wrapped around my breast and her other arm curved around and under my arched back in a strong, close, half-embrace.

I tensed, clenched my eyes, and I came then, quietly, shudderingly, beneath a swift wave of radiating warmth. For a long moment after, I lay in bed just enjoying the post-orgasmic feeling of contented heaviness as my sweat started to cool in the open air.

I would keep that memory locked away tightly so that even Kylo Ren couldn't find it if he tried. That one would go with me to my grave.

After a shower, I put in an order for instant rations which could be kept in my quarters and activated with hot water when I wanted to eat them. What they were lacking in flavor, they made up for in convenience, because I could remain within the confines of my personal space and devote time to reading and continue healing from the previous evening's accidental injury.

Though my bruise was nearly fully healed by now, it was still visible and did nothing to enhance my generally average features. I didn't want to deal with other people's stares, and I knew my veil would not conceal all of it. A boxy delivery droid arrive before too long with my order, and I accepted with my face already buried in the hand held data screen.

Most of the notes on the ancient manuscripts were written by Darth Sidious, but there were also some notes added by his apprentice. From Vader's own words, I could clearly see how different he was from his master. Vader was a warrior, strong and brutal, who placed value in direct confrontation rather than the subtleties of indirect conflict. He showed a distinct distaste for politics and conniving, something with which his master had a ruthless expertise. I could appreciate both of the Sith's methods, but as someone who knew nothing of head-on physical combat, I leaned toward Sidious's offered wisdom.

I hadn't even really explored the other files Kylo Ren had given me access to, though I had made some valiant attempts. There was a lot of information compiled and recorded after Sidious's death and the fall of the Imperial Government, but to me it was a bit too clinical and stuffy; clearly the work of bureaucratic chroniclers and historians rather than eager fanatics. I was much more interested in the Empire's heyday and the ancient Sith legacy than what came after. It truly seemed like a golden age in galactic history, and I wished that I could have been alive to see it.

I learned that consistently, the Sith Order believed, as the First Order, that slaves were an invaluable resource. Darth Sidious took this a step further. He could see real value in finding and training slaves with force sensitivities so that they might be better utilized to carry out the will of the Dark Side. According to the history, his own apprentice had once been a slave. It was fortunate that Sidious rescued him from the clutches of the Jedi who had sought to use him for their own vile purposes. Perhaps, I entertained, if I'd been alive before the fall, my abilities might have been discovered sooner. Perhaps I would have avoided menial slavery altogether. Perhaps, dared I imagine, I would have even caught the attention of Darth Sidious himself as a potential agent of the Force.

The further back I explored Sith historical records, the more I learned about the potential uses of the Force. Great wielders had developed systems of applications, specific incantations, focii, and rituals that could be served to produce an incredible variety of desired results. Some of them were perfectly fascinating in their gruesomeness, such as the ability to raise the dead, fill them with Force energy, and make them do one's bidding. Of course, there was no record of powers like those in later periods and I wondered how much of it was merely myth. Sidious seemed to take it very seriously.

I had seen no mention of anything like my 'sex magic' or my apparent ability to project my emotions so that others felt them. So far, the forced empathy only seemed to work with positive emotions, such as when I'd used it to break down the barriers in the Bothan's mind. I did not miss the fact that 'joy' and 'happiness' were two words that were scarce in these texts.

Passion, however, was a different matter. Love, lust, and zealous fervor were all seen as beneficial; traits which must be encouraged and trained, things which the Jedi sought to suppress. It was ambiguous, but I felt that my own ability to share sexual pleasure fit well within that emotional scope. My negative emotions, on the other hand, seemed to manifest into more direct weapons. I now knew that causing pain was most certainly a concept born of the Dark Side. It was likely this, more than anything else, that had piqued Kylo Ren's interest in me. It certainly explained why he turned down my offer to give him pleasure in exchanged for his guidance.

I paused in my reading to stretch and loosen my joints and talk a small walk around the little living space. My ration packets were sitting on the low table in front of the lounge chair, and I stared at them for a long moment. I decided to try and conjure something from within myself. Come to me, little packet, I thought, positioning my hand in the air as I'd seen Kylo Ren do when he Force-slammed that soldier. I pulled into my eyes the faint glowing anger that, at the moment, was fairly subdued.

I closed off any distractions so that I might better focus my mind. I sensed and then urged the writhing mass to build up behind my eyes. And then I lashed it forward in the form of what I thought of as the Force whip. This time, however, I tried to will it to encompassing the object, wrapping the line of power around it. Then I mentally jerked it back toward myself.

The packets just sat there, insolent and unmoving. I tried again, and then a third time, before I finally decided to give up. With a sigh, I glanced toward the emperor's words displayed across the room on my terminal as if he might be able to give me some kind of guidance, but they had nothing new to suggest. I got up, walked over to the screen, and then opened my personal log.

' _ _Can't move objects with my mind__ _,_ ' I wrote. ' _ _Must ask Kylo Ren if there is any data that is more instructional on the applications of Force energy.__ ' As an afterthought, and with some measure of disappointment, I added, ' _ _if not, will just have to accept the limitations I've been granted.__ '

Darth Sidious, I knew, was no fool. He had only surrounded himself with those who had proven their use to him, even if they were not powerful enough to gain his full apprenticeship as Vader was.

Looking back, thus far my ambitions had been limited to, respectively, climbing up from the very bottom of the First Order's power structure, gaining power of my own (somehow,) and then escaping from my life of servitude. Through events both out of my control and deliberate on my part, I had managed to attain every one of these goals, though many had been fulfilled in ways I could not have imagined.

Still, my heart craved more. Something deeper, something more fundamental to my being and my place in the galaxy. As eagerly as I was devouring everything I could find on the late emperor, I knew that something about him drew me in, some kind of kinship that translated through time and past his death. He had quickly become a figure in my mind raised to such esteem that I sought his teachings to guide me.

It was at that moment that I had the revelation.

Through Kylo Ren's tutelage, and through the teachings of the ancient Sith and the Dark Side of the Force, I wanted to make myself into someone that Darth Sidious himself would have employed to do his bidding. Someone uniquely useful and adept enough at my natural talents that I might prove my worth to those in power.

This realization of renewed purpose filled me to brimming with a thrill of excitement. Physically, it felt as though my stomach had leapt into my chest, as if I'd missed a bottom step and was pitched forward unexpectedly into a void. Or like a dream in which I misstep and suddenly find my sense of equilibrium flipped, only to wake up in a state of mild panic.

I wrote, choosing my words carefully. ' _ _Reach for attainable goals. Then reach further. In this way I will fulfill my potential and serve the Dark Side as its vessel.__ '

I jumped when the terminal alerted me to a new message, interrupting my thoughts. When I saw it was from Phasma, I violently beat away that tiniest involuntary pang of disappointment. Clearly I was hoping it would be from someone else, likely because my mind had begun to stray to that certain Force-adept man yet again. I allowed my guilt to settle in comfortably, and used it to learn that I needed to try and to be more mindful of my feelings.

'Riala,  
At 1500h today, I will be observing some of the more advanced cadets as they run through training sims. It would potentially be to your benefit, and mine, if you attended. I can guarantee front row seats.

Phasma'

She included the location of the holobay at the end as well as instructions to wear a uniform as it was considered an official function. I didn't miss her subtle flirt and that hint of dry humor, and I couldn't help but smile. She was not one to waste energy on formalities, but she wasn't entirely devoid of personality in this medium. Very charming. Now, I was rather excited. Before my enthusiasm could overwhelm my previous spike of guilt, though, I made sure to hold onto that unpleasant feeling, compress it, and push it down so that it joined the rest of my simmering Dark Force energy in the bottom of my heart. In all that I'd learned about the Dark Side and about myself, I could now clearly see the potential ammunition that existed within in every emotion.

I was nervous as well. I did not know what to expect. I'd never seen the holobays in action, though I'd had to clean them in the past. Sometimes there was blood, or other body fluids. As the only insight into what happened within the rooms when they were in use, I wondered just how brutal these simulations were.

After thinking for a moment, I replied, mirroring her very straightforward and formal writing style..

'Dear Captain Phasma,

I would be delighted to attend. Please save me a seat next to you.

Riala.'

With that, I walked away from the console to shower and dress myself, humming absently. I heard the ping of a new message from the other room and strolled out to read her response as I worked on braiding my damp hair.

'Dearest Riala,

Unfortunately we will not be alone. Know that General Hux will be present to observe as well. If this changes your response, I understand.

Sincerely,  
Phasma'

My excitement transformed into jittery dread. Why was Hux going to be there? It seemed a bit beneath him as Commander-General of the entire base to oversee some cadet exercises. Immediately I tried to come up with believable excuses that might explain my sudden change in availability, but nothing my grasping mind invented would disguise my cowardice from Phasma. While she had provided me an out, I could imagine her disappointment if I allowed my fear to guide me, avoiding the man I hated. Besides, as large as Starkiller base was, the livable area was actually quite limited. He and I were bound to run into each other, and perhaps even interact, eventually. What better situation than one in which others would be present?

I simply typed, 'I will be there.'

* * *

I arrived early to the small lobby armory chamber of the specified holobay in time to see two groups of four cadets in full stormtrooper plate getting ready and talking amongst themselves. They spared me no notice. Straight ahead was a large, technically-complicated looking portal sealed with a solid metal door. To my right was the doorway leading to the observation chamber. I went through, and the up the stairs to the immediate left which cornered and brought me to the open doorway into the room above.

Phasma and two other officers I didn't know were already there. The officers were talking to one another in the back of the long, narrow room and the captain herself was standing to face the large window that comprised the entire front wall of the room. She stood tall, and stately in full burnished silver plate, though her helmet was off and resting on the table in front of the window. She turned toward me, and my heart beat just a little bit faster. Whatever emotional sorcery she had over me had nothing to do with the Force. It was purely physical, plain and simple, and a small twinge between my legs reinforced this fact to me in a most distracting manner as I smiled at her, partially obscured behind my standard veil. If the General was going to be here, I did not want him to be able to read my face with any accuracy.

"Riala, I'm glad you could make it." On her strong, square face lived the faintest hint of a smirk, concealed under formality. I had to, very subtly, rest my arm on the door frame when I felt the floor tilt beneath me, breathless all of a sudden. "You're looking well. I see that your grievous injury is nearly healed."

"Captain Phasma," I greeted with a little nod. And then, carefully, "I was surprised to hear that the General had time in his busy schedule to observe some cadet exercises." She nodded, comprehending.

"I am more than just a captain. I have other responsibilities in addition to the duties of my rank. It is much the same as many other officers on this base. In actuality, the General and I comprise part of an unofficial command triumvirate, responsible for both overseeing troop training and for constantly developing ways to improve the process. Kylo Ren is the other member, though the responsibilities of his post and rank frequently take him off base."

I was quite surprised to hear this. "I had no idea how close your working relationship was with them," I admitted. Apparently Captain Phasma was an even more important woman in the Order than I realized. She nodded, accepting my ignorance with grace.

"In fact, cadet training is one area in which my views align with the General's." She glanced through the window, which at the moment looked down on an empty room, large, and patterned by continuous grid lines on every surface. I could see that the window itself was a transparent digital screen, though at the moment it was in standby mode. "The General and I both have confidence in the effectiveness of the First Order's military conditioning programs. We've both seen many of our soldiers fight, die, and frequently surprise us with their ability to obey orders perfectly. Sometimes, they even excel above the line of duty."

"Kylo Ren doesn't feel the same way?" I asked, curious about this new angle on the man. Phasma glanced at me, and absently shifted her stance while she devised her response, making the lights play off of the shining surface of her armor in a dazzling way. Two techs entered the room from behind me and took their seats facing consoles on the other side of the room. It was almost time to begin.

"He is impatient for results of our careful, methodical training methods. I suspect that he would prefer that we simply use clones instead of recruits." Her use of the word 'recruits' was chilling in its innocuousness, though I made sure not to betray my true feelings in my expression. When she said recruits, what she was referring to were infants or children who, much like myself, were sold to the Order or taken by force, and brought into the fold while they were still young enough to be imprintable.

Someone else entered the observation room behind me, just as the space past the window went dark. My attention was drawn to the window before I could see the new arrival, but I recognized his voice easily, and its familiar timbre provoked an unwelcome tremor within me;at once sexual and resentful.

"Kylo Ren is absent enough that I have cause to believe he knows little of what he speaks," the arrogant, almost bored male voice behind me spoke. Phasma and I both turned to acknowledge General Hux's arrival simultaneously; she with a salute, and myself with nothing more than a blank look. It was all I could do to mask my inner shock at how drastically different he appeared from the last time I'd seen him. The other two officers in the room, and the techs, all turned and stood at attention. He paid them no mind, nor did he seem to notice how I stared, even after he told the rest of the room to stand at ease.

General Hux did not look well, and I hated to admit that that observation gave me a small dose of malicious enjoyment. When last I saw him one-on-one, the cold, handsome officer had been strong and full of life. Angry, yes, drunk, but healthy. Now, I observed with some amount of astonishment, he seemed thinner, more tired. His perfectly tailored grey uniform fit more loosely on his body. Subtle folds in the material suggesting that his muscle mass had decreased by a fraction. Easily overlooked, but I had seen the man naked on many occasions so the change was starkly obvious to me.

He still stood with the same stiff, straight-backed posture, but it seemed somehow strained and a little more weary. His pale skin had adopted an almost gaunt look, with hints of shadow in his cheeks and under his ice blue eyes. There was no change in his voice that I could detect, but I wondered at his subtle transformation. He continued the conversation, oblivious.

"Unlike Kylo Ren, I have no doubt that our current conditioning program creates troops that are both effective in battle, and loyal to death," he said. Phasma nodded. I could only listen halfway, as I was trying not to let my anxiety from being so near to him interfere with my carefully executed outward demeanor of apathy. All that seemed to repeatedly come to mind, however, was the way his careful self control shattered in the privacy of his quarters as I brought him to his breaking point, and then the domineering arrogance of him at our last discussion as he ordered me to fulfill my function to him. Phasma was entirely, blithely ignorant of my inner turmoil as she responded to his speculations with genuine deference.

"Of course, there is always room for improvement," she said lightly. Her rich, firm voice pulled me away from my scrutiny of Hux as she turned back to the black space beyond the window. "But I do think you will be pleased with this batch today, General. The second fire-team is comprised of the top cadets in their class. One cadet in particular, ID FN-2187, has repeatedly scored in the highest percentile in all combat runs and simulations. Pay close attention to him, if you will."

I loved the way she spoke about the soldiers she commanded. I felt that it was almost the way that a mother might look on her children. I had read her file and it painted a picture of an officer that was careful with her soldiers yet did what was necessary to accomplish the objective. Her first priority was the will of the First Order, even if it meant sacrificing her troops in the process. She was a formidable woman, Captain Phasma, intelligent, strategic, and loyal. Despite Kylo Ren's warning, I thought I might enjoy a good swoon if it mean folding up to her body, enclosed in her arms. I wanted to jealously kiss her throat and feel her voice through my lips as she said such things about me.

"Please, have a seat," Phasma said to the rest of those present, breaking my reverie. The effects of my self-attention that morning seemed to have long faded, but still I managed to wrangle my attention to the present moment. The two officers took their seats and pulled out data pads, presumably to take notes on their observations. Both the General and the Captain remained standing, and so I decided to do so as well, tearing my focus from her to follow her line of sight through the window into the room below.

* * *

When the lights in the room came on once more, the scene I looked down on through the window was jarringly alien. No longer were we under the surface of an ice planet converted into a giant space station, we were looking out onto a battlefield, a bunker off in the distance, skies orange and pink and streaked with smoke butts, all frozen in place, coloring the urban ruins in dusky shadows and indirect light. The confines of the room were gone, replaced by this scenery of startling realness. Back toward the entrance to the chamber, to the left side of the window, I could see what looked like a fully rendered transporter whose back door occupied the same space as the large bay door that led into the chamber.

There was a loud, buzzing alarm, three regular pulses, and suddenly the scene below, which had been paused, came to life. Off in the distance, I could see flashes of explosions. Through speakers in the observation room, I could hear distant phaser fire and ships screaming by far overhead. The door to the transporter opened, and four storm troopers filed in and quickly assumed defensive positions within the simulated landscape. The readout on the window before us flickered to life, transparent green and red overlays on the scene below displaying readouts of the soldier's physical states, the progress of the simulation, and a transcript of the cadets' com chatter. Around the soldiers themselves blinked outlines highlighting their positions and tagging them with their designations. I heard com chatter between the cadets as the one who was clearly in charge gave orders, addressing the ones under her command by nicknames or codes.

Enthralled, I watched the simulation unfold. The goal, I could see was to approach and take out the well fortified rebel outpost visible in the distance, and I was fascinated by the way the troopers knew exactly what to do. Each seemed to have roles according to their strengths. The leader was a sniper, it seemed, and she led the charge from behind, providing cover for the others as they encroached.

Too quickly, they were victorious in securing the outpost and it was over. The scenery below blinked out of exstence, leaving the team standing in the combat chamber. They faced the window, waiting. Judging by Phasma and Hux's conversation, and that of the two other officers in the room, all present were both pleased with how smoothly it had gone. I was a little out of my depth when it came to military protocols and such, but I was able to get the gist of it.

After a moment of quiet discussion, Phasma walked to the tech consoles and grabbed the handheld com mic. She addressed the cadets below.

"Objective completed," she said, her voice, echoing through the chamber below, showing neither approval nor disapproval. "Rk-1934, Rk-1902, Rk-2008, and Rk-1099, proceed to evaluation and debriefing and await further orders." The four soldiers obediently saluted, responding with 'yes Captain Phasma' in unison, before filing out of the room through the large bay door.

"Perfectly executed," Hux said appreciatively. "I see what you mean."

"You have seen nothing yet. Fire team always accomplishes their objectives, though sometimes FN-2187's methods are unusual. Still, I see a future for him in command. Perhaps even a position overseeing many platoons." Phasma's calm, lofty voice held the smallest hint of pride, and I couldn't help but smile secretly under my veil. "I will say nothing more, observe with your own eyes."

The simulation was reset; the room was concealed in darkness, and then the same battle-torn landscape as before took its place, everything as it had been in the beginning of the first run. The alarms sounded, and when the soldiers filed in, immediately I could see what Phasma had been talking about. I followed the overlay outlining and identifying the troops, and listened to their com chatter. FN-2187 was undoubtedly the leader, referred to between his comrades simply as 87, and he delivered orders without hesitation. So used to seeing stormtroopers as faceless automatons without personality or humanity, I was surprised to detect the hint of excitement and confidence in 87's rich voice.

There were murmurs between the other two officers as one member of the fire-team quickly fell behind. According to the conversation between the soldiers, this was a regular occurrence, and I could see that the scenario was at risk to fail. I glanced at Phasma, who watched impassively, calmly. Hux looked dubious.

When simulated Republic soldiers began to encroach on the stranded man unbeknownst to him, FN-2187 and the others on the fire team began to argue over the next step. The others were for proceeding as planned and letting the lone man fall. 87, however, was resolute in his determination to leave none behind. In between dodging very realistic phaser fire and one-shot killing the enemy dotted throughout the area leading up to the Republic compound, he arranged the rest of the team so that the loner, tagged as FN-2003, would not fall to the enemy.

I had no combat experience, but even I was surprised to see his display of empathy and loyalty to the men he commanded. It was unlike anything I'd witnessed before. In the end, despite the other two's hesitation, 87 managed to secure the compound and single-handedly take out the Republic soldier entrenched and armed with a heavy repeating blaster, all without losing a single man or expending too much time.

As last time, when the simulation ended, Phasma gave no audible sign of her feelings as she ordered them to evaluation and debriefing. When she was done with the announcement, Hux turned to her and admitted that the display was impressive. Outwardly, he seemed completely unaffected by my presence. Judging by the way he had changed, however, I had my suspicions that something more was happening beneath the surface.

"Due to the skills of FN-2187," she insisted, respectful but firm. I sensed that this was not a conversation for me to take part in. I stepped aside so that I could peer down into the room below. I watched as all but FN-2187 seemed exulted, clapping each other on the back and joking when they filed out of the chamber. My eyes lingered on 87, who stayed quiet admidst his peers' triumphant hoots and hollers, and hung back a little as they exited. Curious.

As Phasma and Hux only became more deeply drawn into their conversation about the fire team's performance, I sensed that my part in this was over. Politely, I cleared my throat when there was a brief pause in the conversation. Phasma looked over to me, and I could tell that she was clearly distracted, but still she smiled as she spoke.

"Riala, I hope that was enlightening for you," she said. Hux turned away to look through the window while she and I spoke, showing the utmost disdain for whatever we had to say to one another. "Everything from here is neither exciting nor educational, I'm afraid to say."

I nodded, letting my eyes express my gracious smile. "I will leave you to your work, then, Captain. I am truly grateful that you allowed me to see this. I was very impressed with your men. By my observations, FN-2187 does seem to display a noteworthy understanding of his team," I said, my voice speculative as I thought on the cadet's behavior.

"Perhaps too much so," Hux chimed in without looking. "Empathy at the cost of obedience to higher command may be an admirable trait for anyone else, but for a soldier of the First Order military, it could be a liability." Phasma looked from me to Hux, and I could see the unspoken disagreement on in her eyes, but she said nothing, and after a moment, he left the room without looking at either of us. It was as if the palpable tension left with him, and the other officer's discussion relaxed and grew in volume. Phasma addressed me once more.

"Riala, if you would excuse me, I must debrief the cadets," she said. She glanced down, and when our eyes met again, I could tell that the next part was just for me. "If you find that you have time later, I would very much like for us to meet outside of duty hours. We need to catch up."

Warmth spread from my feet and filled me until I felt my face prickle hotly. My eyes matched hers unblinking, an unspoken thought shared between us that didn't need to be expressed in words. "I would love to."

* * *

Author's Note:

For this chapter and the one before it, I drew heavily from the official Book of Sith: Secrets from the Dark Side. I also borrowed a scene from Greg Rucka's Star Wars: Before the Awakening, specifically Finn's chapter. If you have read neither of these, I highly recommend them. I kept this as canon as possible except, of course, that Riala has been inserted into the story.

This is basically my way of advancing the timeline which eventually leads to the movie, among other things.

I have compiled a spotify playlist, at the suggestion of a friend, comprised of music that I use to inspire me while I write. If you're curious, I have posted the link to it in my profile. It's sexy, evil, and contains a wide variety of genres including some of the original movie themes. Thanks for reading! I am already hard at work on the next chapter.


	22. Phasma's Lesson

When Phasma showed up at my door, I was a little surprised to see her choice in attire; she was wearing a black padded body glove. What I'd assumed was an invitation to a romantic evening together was actually an appointment for our first combat training session. She found my dismayed reaction amusing. She only smirked at me, her eyes alight with mischief as she stood in the tiny sitting space in the front of my quarters.

"I never joke about combat readiness, Riala," she chided as I changed into more appropriate clothing in the privacy of my washroom. When I emerged, my disappointment had brightened into excitement . I should have known better. Captain Phasma, above all, was a soldier. For all I knew, this was her way of flirting with me, but it was more likely that she legitimately felt it was important.

She brought me to a large, brightly lit practice space with a padded floor, similar to the ones in the officer's fitness facilities, but this one was a little more worn and well-used, and despite the fact that it was a public space, it was empty of most other occupants at this time of night.

Over the course of the next two hours, Phasma clinically explained and then demonstrated stances that would stabilize my center of gravity, make it harder for a stronger opponent to throw me off balance or overcome me. She made me mimic her perfectly and repeatedly until she felt confident that I understood her. Once or twice, our heated bodies were brought to excruciating closeness as she displayed, with her own formidable strength and height, just how effective the stances were.

It was hard to keep my thoughts from straying to a more carnal matters, but I could tell that I was the only one having such thoughts. My dear captain was apparently in full cadet training mode, focused and in her element as she tried to earnestly teach me what she knew. She didn't seem at all aware of the effect she was having on me. Or, as she wasn't a stupid woman, she was aware but her priorities were on the actual purpose of seeing one another.

By the end, I was a panting, sweaty mess, and every part of my body ached. Phasma, incredibly, only seemed more invigorated. She wasn't even sweaty. As I was bent double, hands resting on bent knees while I caught my breath, I could see her constantly moving in the edges of my sight, unable to stand still. I laughed breathlessly as I looked up at her.

"Perhaps you should read less and run more," Phasma teased, a mischievous grin spreading to the outer corners of her round grey eyes.

"I think I could run for three hours every day for a year and I would never be able to keep up with you," I panted through my laughter. I had to admit, after the physical activity, I did feel... strangely buoyant. I felt much lighter and more energetic despite my soreness. I wouldn't be able to move for a day or two afterward, of course, but at the moment I felt wide awake. Phasma walked over to me, her energy and natural strength almost lent a swagger to her gait. Strands of blond hair were falling over her forehead and her white face was flushed lightly pink, but I saw not one drop of sweat on her. A vision of vitality, she stole my breath anew, as she tended to do whenever I was least prepared for it.

"Unless you have prior commitments, Riala, I expect to see you tomorrow evening, same time. I can see that you need a lot more guidance. I'll be baseside for the next couple of weeks attending to the less enjoyable, but unavoidable, aspects of my job," she said, giving me a cryptic, overly serious look. "Paperwork."

"Isn't this technically your free time?" I asked, a conflicting mix of dread and elation in my voice at the prospect of doing this again tomorrow.

"This is exactly the kind of thing I need after a long day of doing nothing," she said as she stretched. I watched her as she spoke, fascinated by how easily, how thoughtlessly she moved. She was surprisingly graceful, and the sight of her fit body moving was enough to make my mouth go dry. "Perhaps with time, you will actually make me break a sweat."

I flashed her an indignant look, and she only half-smirked, her eyes shining. In my mind, I could see the way her face had looked the last time we shared her bed. She was definitely sweating then, I thought smugly to myself. How out of place Phasma must feel behind a desk in non-combat uniform. Training cadets or fighting in the midst of a raging battle, that is where I most readily pictured her. I decided to keep my joy over her desk assignment to myself.

I agreed, of course, and the look of approval on her radiant face gave me an injection of pure pleasure. Unfortunately, the evening had to draw to a close. In the 28 hour day of Starkiller Base's current solar system and rotational speed, it was well past 2700h. Phasma had a long day of tedium ahead of her.

We parted ways, but not before she rewarded me with a surprising gesture of camaraderie. I followed her lead and mirrored the gesture; we clasped each others' arms wrist to elbow in a strong grip, just as I'd seen the soldiers do among their peers. The gesture was small, brief, but through her act of sharing it with me, I felt as though I had gained entry into an exclusive place within Captain Phasma's esteem. I would never be able to storm an enemy barracks or wrestle an opponent to the ground, but the fact that I wanted to learn from her seemed to give her great satisfaction.

I returned to my quarters and immediately took a long, hot shower to wash away my accumulated sweat and hopefully prevent some of tomorrow's muscle soreness. I knew it was futile, though. My mind was occupied by imaginings of Phasma's body pressed against mine, muscles flexed as she grappled me, demonstrating take down moves or whatever it was she would have me do tomorrow, and I smiled to myself in the privacy of my washroom. I wasn't entirely conscious of the fact that I was restless until I tried to lay down. I shifted fitfully beneath my covers, tried to will myself to sleep, but to no avail. I got up and moved into the next room.

'Kylo Ren, the captain and I have started my physical training. I am learning how to balance my stance so that larger opponents cannot easily overpower me. It's a basic skill that can be mastered quickly, and without a lifetime's worth of military training, it seems like a good thing to know.' My thoughts transported me to a dark room, to Kylo Ren's lanky body curved forward over me, his breath as he pressed me between himself and the interrogation harness, his moist lips and teeth grazing the skin of my neck.

'I feel that I have already gained much from her wisdom. I'm under the impression that the lessons will continue as long as she is baseside, or at least until I drop dead from exhaustion. The woman is a machine.' In the words I wrote, I felt Phasma's strong arms around me, her warmth sinking into my skin as she showed me how to slip away from an assailant coming from behind. I had appreciated the feel of her firm trunk against my back as she towered over me, the gentle warrior, all business.

I had the sudden inclination to get up and walk in a circuit around the room. I picked up a ration packet, looked at it with disinterest, and then put it back down. I walked back to the terminal, feeling a little overly warm as I continued to type my message.

'I tried to use my Force powers to move an object, but this skill seems to elude me. I would welcome any guidance you can provide as I continue to learn the limits of my access to the Force. So. What do you think of Necromancy?'

I hit send before I could really think about it. What do you think about Necromancy? Who asks that? Too late to amend it, I saw it for the glaringly obvious plea for attention that it was. I wanted to talk to him. It was a shameless attempt to get a response, and perhaps start a conversation, something I desperately craved right at this moment. To be fair, he'd been called away before I really had time to process all that had happened to me. I was twenty years old, and in the space of less than two months, I went from being a slave, to a hired mistress (really, that was the truth of it,) to nearly a general's wife (or concubine, I never did find out,) and now, a free woman I found myself student to a masterful Dark Force adept. It was a lot to take in, and really, I had never stopped and tried, I just moved where the whirlwind seemed to bring me.

I had only a taste of Kylo Ren's guidance and I wanted more. I had so many questions, and none could answer them but him. My universe was ever expanding, and the more that I learned, the more that I craved to know. I knew that part of what I was feeling was loneliness. The writings of dead Sith lords could only provide so much in companionship, and without my mentor, the base seemed somehow emptier. And much less interesting.

I shoved aside my foolish sentimentality as my mind tried to draw me into and get lost in thoughts of things that would simply never be; I could let nothing interfere with my goals. Still wide awake, I prepared a meal and brought my data screen onto the bed while I ate. My current place in Sidious's collected manuscripts was devoted to Darth Bane's Rule of Two, and some think, the beginning of the 'Darth' title. Sidious had employed many agents with the title aside from Vader. I gathered that his attitude toward them when he was alive was very shrewd.

They served a purpose, and they served it well. Until they no longer proved useful. Somehow or another they would fall and another would take their place. None were special to him. Even Vader, who remained at his side to the end, was just a tool to be utilized. As much as I seemed to understand about Palpatine, his lack of attachment to his apprentices was within character. Yet it still struck me as rather... sad that Palpatine seemed to not have deep emotional attachments to anyone. My terminal signaled that I'd received my response, and I dreaded what it might say even as I read it.

'I have reason to believe that Necromancy may have once been entirely possible, if uncommon. I did make some attempts to raise the dead early in my training. Needless to say, they were unsuccessful. It's possible that whatever aspect of the Force that enabled such a skill simply no longer exists, as none live that had a practical knowledge of it. On that subject, have you tried to manipulate a living target? I want you to try. Report back to me in detail once you have tested this. I hope that Captain Phasma is able to impart some of her wisdom to you. You need it. I fully intend to evaluate your progress upon my return. The Finalizer will make basefall in eleven days.'

I could sense the finality of his last line, and felt annoyance flare hotly in my chest. Kylo Ren was busy, of course. The timing of these events could not have been more inconvenient to my growth, but there was nothing I could do.

Irritated and restless, I decided to try and sleep. It was only after furiously masturbating my tension away that I was able to accomplish this. Between Phasma's agonizing closeness and Kylo Ren's ambiguously suggestive messages, both people left me feeling on edge. I knew that this next period would be very difficult for me.

* * *

The next few days passed much like the previous one; I spent the day focusing my studies, expanding outward to encompass the history of the Jedi Order and the rise of the Republic. Bountiful information was in the possession of the Empire, and now the First Order, thanks to Palpatine's destruction and ransacking an ancient Jedi temple just before his ascent to emperor. My thoughts briefly lighted upon what the Bothan spy had said under extreme duress, that he had given 'the fragment' to someone.

After learning of all manner of ancient and arcane Sith artifacts, many of which the Jedi had hoarded, I tried to see the confession in a new light. Perhaps Kylo Ren's mission involved finding fragments of a powerful artifact? One of them, an amulet of power, supposedly enabled its wearer to amplify their ability to raise and control the dead. Our last communication inspired the mental imagery I suddenly had. Kylo Ren leading the Knights of Ren to battle followed by a vast army of First Order soldiers and weaponized corpses, slaughtering and subduing all in their path. As horrifying a concept as that was, it was strangely comforting. I would not want to be on the wrong side of that war, and if something like that were ever to happen, I felt that I was safest where I was. If what I had read were taken as truth, and if I were to agree with Kylo Ren, that unbelievable concept was not so far outside the realm of possibility.

I had yet to do as Kylo Ren asked, to test my ability on something living. Truly, I barely left my quarters apart from my evening lessons with Phasma. The captain's dogged determination to impart some small part of her extensive combat knowledge both kept us excruciatingly close to one another and successfully helped alleviate some of my pent up energy. Not only that, but I seemed to be a fairly quick study; I was learning, and I realized with no small pleasure, that I was doing it first and foremost for myself.

* * *

It was on the evening of the eighth day that I reached my breaking point.

The door to our practice space was closed, as it usually was, and my beautiful captain was being especially unforgiving. The third time she thwarted my attempt to throw her off of me from behind, I lost my balance and fell. With my back on the floor I tried to regain the wind that was knocked out of me. As she had every time I ended up on the ground, she came up next to me with her easy swagger and bent forward with one of her large hands extended, an expression of patronizing amusement on her face. I was struck by a sudden sense of spite.

The moment her black-clad legs were within reach, I slipped my ankles around hers, crossed them, and then twisted my body to the side. She was not expecting this, and with a grunt, she tumbled and fell on top of me with an 'oof,' her face a picture of surprise and humor. My heart began to beat against my chest, as if it wanted to burst out and touch her itself. She opened her mouth to speak, but my lips were on hers before she could say the words. There was only the briefest of hesitations before she started kissing me back, and our moist, hot mouths devoured one another. We fell into each other. The body heat became concentrated where our bodies touched, and spread. Pink spots of color bloomed on her cheeks, and the welcome weight of her large, hard body pressed mine between it and the mat on the floor, at once sheltering me and trapping me.

I was being driven mad by the taste of her tongue on mine, the smell of her, the restrained desire that seemed to radiate from her. The culmination of more than a week's worth of pent up sexual frustration, and apparently Force energy, made itself known as an invisible line of fire seemed to arc between us, connecting the bundles of nerves between our legs, and we both gasped. It had been an accident, but not an unwelcome one.

Deftly, she began to open the front of my body suit. Her soft mouth pillaged mine in between hard, fast breaths. I felt my back arch up to meet her hand the moment it slipped inside and cupped my breast. She squeezed, encouraged by my soft moans, and I felt everything clench in response. My hand moved up and threaded through her short blond hair, and I stole another kiss from her lips, hungry for the taste of her.

Somehow through the frantic, greedy haze, my other hand found the opening to her uniform and began to tug at it. She pulled up suddenly, and I felt my body lurch involuntarily upward after her, the sudden gap between us unbearable. Finally, my mind caught up to me and I realized that something was wrong, I unclenched my eyes and met hers. The expression in them as she regarded me was terse. Our surroundings rushed back around us, and I could hear the distant sounds of others making use of the neighboring exercise rooms.

"Captain?" I finally asked when she said nothing, my voice thick as I studied her expression. I glanced down to the front of her uniform, which I had begun to open. I could see the edge of that scar and I could only long to see its entirety. She turned away and moved as if to stand, but my hand shot out before I could stop it, and gripped her muscular forearm, stopping her with the lightest pressure. "Phasma, please," I managed to say, trying to convey all of the possible endings to that. Please, you're driving me crazy. Please, let me touch you. Please, tell me what's wrong. She froze and then her eyes met mine again, and I saw a much more unhappiness than I ever would have expected from such a powerful, confident woman.

"We shouldn't do this," she said finally after clearing her throat, her deep voice low. I fought to stay buoyant above my sinking feeling. Her velvet eyes flickered down and rested on my lips with something akin to regret in them. "I can't do this to you."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, bafflement battled the insistent throbbing that I felt between my legs, the telltale tickling sensation of my moist arousal demanding my attention. I fought to keep my thoughts in line. I did not let go of her arm, my grip conveying to her clearly that I would not allow her to move. I held onto that heat in my loins, focused on it even as I mentally ordered the worrysome fold between her blonde brows to smooth.

"When I first saw you, you were helpless. You were angry and desperate, and you could do nothing about it." I nodded somewhat impatiently as she spoke. Of course, I remembered very clearly the gleaming vision of the soldier standing in the doorway as she effortlessly deterred my clumsy attacker. Even now, the memory set my heart aflutter. "I knew on some level that my rank influenced your decision to accompany me to my bed, and I took advantage," she hurriedly spoke the last part, silencing my protest with a raised hand. "Even if you consented, enthusiastically, I feel that your choices were not your own. My intentions were not honorable, Riala. I showed you kindness so that you might help me in return. Perform for me as an extra pair of eyes. And such eyes they are," she breathed, pausing in her speech, lost for a moment. I looked down at my lap, uncomfortable suddenly with her praise.

"Every time you cast your eyes down in front of me, you remind me how unworthy I am of your deference. Now that you are free, and I am but a Captain, you need not feign interest, Riala. I wish to train you, but I don't want you to feel that you have to barter intimacy for it."

I sighed to settle my vibrating nerves as I finally figured out what was bothering her so. I removed my hand from around her forearm, raised it to her face, and touched her cheek so that she would meet my eyes again. So that she would see the burning desire in them even now. I admit that I used the tiniest string of power, just enough of my Gaze to force her to know how her very presence affected me, to compel her to leave such thoughts behind. I heard her breath catch slightly.

"So much has changed since then," I said to her. It seemed so long ago now, almost another life. I took her hand, placed it upon the bare skin between my breasts through the open front of my suit so that she could feel how hard my heart pounded. Her eyes followed to where her palm now rested. The skin contact sent steaks of fire straight to my loins, but still I spoke, needing her to understand. "I'm free, now. Free to tell you that you have never left my mind since that evening. Not _once_. It isn't your rank or authority that occupy my restless thoughts at night. It's you. You're driving me out of my mind with your very nearness, Phasma, and with your misplaced sense of nobility."

The line between her brows softened some. Smoothly, I leaned up, stretched to reach, and planted a light kiss on that furrow until it had smoothed completely. "What about Kylo Ren? General Hux?" She asked, her voice a breath. Before I could help myself, I felt the heat rising to my face, and I knew that she could see it. Still, I spoke with utter sureness.

"General Hux has no power over me anymore outside of his rank as commander of this base. And Kylo Ren," I trailed off as I pictured his white face, his dark eyes, his full, serious mouth, his flashing anger, and an involuntary thrill flared deep in my belly. "He is my teacher. Apart from that, he has no claim over me." When I met her eyes again, hers were bright, the color in her cheeks pink, but I made my message clear. " _No one_ does." Even Phasma, who was a constant, comforting presence in the back of my mind and in my heart. Phasma ever present in the back of my mind, holding me steady as my life was thrown into upheaval. Even then, I was not hers. But at this moment... "I will tell you what I want as plainly as possible, Captain, so that there is no further misunderstanding between us."

And then, trapping her hand against my heart, I wrapped my arms around her neck. I captured her mouth with mine before she could take a breath, surprising her momentarily. But then she returned my kiss, all hesitation melted away as her strength and need eclipsed everything. She was on top of me, then, peeling my suit away, and this time she did not stop me as I sought to disrobe her, slipped my hand in, palmed and squeezed a small breast. A shudder went through her as I brushed a firm thumb over her hard nipple. As I pulled away the fabric of her clothing, my fingers sought out every tiny, raised scar that marked her body.

Battle scars of all shapes patterned her otherwise smooth, flawless, pale skin. Long gashes, small burns, and a star-shaped white pucker where she had survived a blaster shot to her back; every mark on her was a story. I sought to devour them all with my mouth, to feel their every textured nuance with the tip of my tongue, learn their history through touch.

Every new stretch of bare flesh that I saw was glorious; muscles rippled thickly beneath soft, flush skin as she worked to disrobe me. Her large hands combed every inch of my breasts, my side, and dug into my back as she held me to her. Every kiss she planted on my face, my neck, my collar bone, sent swells of heat to down my clenching abdomen and gathered unrelentingly in my throbbing cunt. When her bare hand, with calloused fingertips lending a maddeningly perfect amount of friction, found my aching labia, I cried out involuntarily. My urgency itself almost tipped me over the edge, but even as I pushed my hips down on her pressing hand, I made sure to grab the open edge of her her tight, tugging it down insistently. I would not let her do all the work this time.

She did not stop me now. She raised herself up and curled over me, laying me backwards onto the mat, both commanding me and allowing me to continue pulling the suit down. When I could no longer reach, I snaked my legs around her, hooked it with my toes, and kicked until we were both naked, my dexterity hindered somewhat beneath her barrage of kisses; soft, moist gifts raining upon my neck, my shoulder, the chrome bar sitting against my throat, my breast. I allowed myself a moment to luxuriate in Captain Phasma's naked glory for the first time. I trailed my hands down her front, and she paused to let me, delight and hunger in her flushed face as my fingertips gripped her, to feel every plane of her, every shape, every ridge of rib and soft swell of her hips and buttocks, every hard line of her athletic form.

When her patience stretched too thin, she leaned down again and nuzzled my neck, her hand returned to its duty between my legs, and at that moment I mirrored her, followed her lead. My fingertips dragged through the thick, soft patch of blond pubic hair. I immediately felt the wet, quivering signs of her arousal, and as I dipped my fingers into and around her delicate folds, I felt her tense and shudder. It was as if a direct line coursed from her through my fingertips, traveled up my arm, and straight down to the soft, searing flesh beneath her hand. My only experience with manual stimulation was with myself, but it was entirely different when doing it to someone else. I had to watch her carefully for her signals even as I began to lose myself in her touch. Her sighs and throaty directions, 'yes, just there,' or 'oh, Riala,' sent emotional thrills through me, and I longed to share with her the things I'd learned about my abilities.

The roiling waves of sexual power radiated from me, and now I didn't care if Phasma felt it. At this moment, were were as one body with two pounding hearts, pressed together, though never close enough. It was as though everything we did to one another, the other felt with acute potency, linking us until we breathed together, cried out together, moved in unison. Lovingly, we fucked each other with our hands, our breasts crushed together, hungry mouths seeking to devour. I felt that I shrank down so that I no longer existed outside of the burning ache of my groin as it was steadily penetrated and embraced by Phasma's fingers.

Outside of our joined bodies, I felt that incomprehensible, burning power. Raw Force energy, I realized with strange clarity even as the pressure and tightening mounted in my spine, in my clenching belly. It was immense as I felt my consciousness drawn to it like gravity. I felt the waves lapping at me seductively, and I let the fear of letting go and slipping beneath them heighten the sensations of our mounting orgasm, even as I resisted their siren call.

I opened my eyes to come back from that terrifying place. Phasma's face was a beautiful image of complete abandonment.

Exquisite agony swelled inside of me and I writhed beneath her. When I thought I would burst, I flooded her with my pent up energy. She bucked, but I pulled her down, swallowed her vocalizations. I drank her in as we succumbed and sank to the floor together in a sweaty, naked heap, unable and unwilling to move for long minutes.

After we managed to find our strength, she helped me off of the floor, and we both pulled our body suits on. I felt that my skin still vibrated from the powerful climax we shared. Phasma, too, was humming, her pink mouth a perfect U of unconscious happiness.

"You know you've ruined me for other people," she said lightly without looking at me, her voice still a bit hoarse as she tossed me a clean towel. I looked at her curiously, but I could tell that what she had said was not entirely in jest. "I suspect that I am not the only one."

"I don't know what you mean," I said honestly, amazed at how, even now, she seemed to be brimming with energy. I wanted to sleep for days. She looked down for a moment, her hands hanging onto the towel draped around the back of her neck.

"General Hux has not been himself," she mused, watching me carefully. I stopped what I was doing and looked at her, feeling a twinge of uneasiness at the mention of his name. "Every day, without fail, he practices his martial skills after his shift. I know this for fact, from multiple sources." I did not need to ask her what her sources were, and neither did I doubt them. "Since your arrangement was terminated, he has not gone once. In fact, he has stopped all but sleep and work. I don't need to know what exactly it is that you did for him, Riala, as it is none of my concern. I just know that you have a lasting effect on those whose lives you touch. For good or ill."

This was not a conversation I wanted to be having. My post orgasmic glow was fading, and I caught myself looking toward the exit, trying to tune out Captain Phasma's strange praise. I felt a light, gentle hand on my arm and I turned to look at her, my nervousness dispelled by the heated look in her eyes and reassured by the warmth in her touch. "Many have tried, and failed, to make you theirs, Riala, and I would have it no other way. My life as a captain certainly makes any kind of romantic entanglements impossible, but I must say, if things were different..." her words trailed off, but their unspoken conclusion made me feel very pleasantly warm inside. I held onto it. I didn't know when I might need to call on the power of pure, unrefined joy.

"If things were different, we may never have met," I said, giving her a small smile. "I am content to never ask 'what if.'" Her cheeks glowed at this, softening her handsome face. We embraced, confirmed another practice session for the next day, and went our separate ways. I would sleep well that night.


	23. Unanticipated Developments

I stared at the plant as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of my face. Fat, vivid green leaves, obviously belonging to a species not native to the base's surface, spilled upward from the pot like a fountain. It wasn't a remarkable plant, perhaps two feet high from its pot where it sat upon my lounge area table, and likely grown within one of Starkiller Base's many hothouses along with edible produce. I didn't know what kind of plant it was, and I didn't really care. All I knew was that I had been staring daggers at it for the better half of an hour, and yet it sat on the table as if all of the energy I poured into it were a figment of my imagination. Beads of sweat had begun to collect on my forehead after forty five minutes of such willful concentration.

Repeatedly, I'd gathered and twisted my emotions into gasping, prehensile tentacles, digging up whatever negative feeling I could pour into them. As time had gone on, I found it easier to fuel my abilities as my growing impatience and frustrations added themselves to the mix. I lashed at the plant, made the tendril of power wrap around it, tried to call it back to me. Nothing, not even a breeze. Perhaps in order for my particular skills to have effect, the target needed nerve endings. I didn't want to cause it pain. I didn't want to kill it either, though I had to stop myself from swiping the frondy thing onto the floor with my actual hand. I simply wanted to move it without touching it, an ability that seemed just out of my reach, so to speak.

My teacher's last assignment had been hanging heavily over my head for many days, but for reasons I didn't really want to discover, I had put it off until now. Other things had become more important. Instead of trying to work on my Force abilities, I delved deep into records and accounts of the construction, function, and eventual destruction of both of the Imperial Death Stars, clearly the spiritual predecessor to what eventually became Starkiller Base. I felt much more comfortable examining the past than myself.

As I had expected, communication with my mentor had been sparse, but we did have one brief exchange when I asked him about Sidious's final apprentice, Darth Vader. He didn't reveal much, but something about the way he'd responded told me that there was more to his feelings than was apparent on the surface, a significance concealed beneath carefully chosen words. I recognized it, even if I didn't know what it was. I wondered if the connection I felt to Sidious was how my teacher felt about Vader, as sort of a distant, long dead paragon of what I wanted to be, not that my abilities even came close to Sidious's. Kylo Ren's abilities as a warrior for the Dark Side, using weapons and strength in addition to his Force abilities, seemed to give him and Vader at least one thing in common. I filed that speculation away. I would have to find out through Kylo Ren himself. Later. Now, I had a plant to knock over. Or pick up. Or throw. Or anything.

I glared at it.

My terminal alert interrupted my concentration.

It wasn't a message, it was a schedule change notification. My confusion came to the forefront. I hadn't received an alert like that since the promotional ceremony that I skipped out on. As such, it shouldn't have surprised me to see who it was from. A wave of distaste hit me. General Hux, in all his boldness, had scheduled a meeting with me, without prior communication, in what I could surmise was his office. According to his directions, it was located far within the base's control and monitoring subsection. I knew it was the place he spent most of his time when he was working and overseeing the onbase operations, in an entirely different section of the base below the equator.

Thoughts clashed as I considered many things. Though I didn't want to see Hux, at least not in private, the location he'd given was in a fairly public place. Not to mention, the state I'd seen him in over a week ago was so drastically different from the man I'd first met. My distaste was softened with something akin to pity as I recalled his diminished figure, his subtle exhaustion. Phasma's words from a few nights ago came back to me, words I'd dismissed at the time. That I had a lingering effect on those I touched, for good or ill. If Hux had finally called on me, he must have been desperate.

I doubted there would have been repercussions if I had chosen to ignore the schedule change, as my spite demanded, but this was the first time Hux had contacted me, even indirectly, since his promotion. In addition, the last ten days had been spent sealed into self-imposed isolation with no reprieve apart from my training with Phasma. Despite all my misgivings, I was quite eager to venture out into the station at this point.

I had to take a short distance transporter to get to Command. The base of operations was located beneath the equatorial trench that bisected the planet-sized station. Vacuum tubes ensured that the journey was swift, if boring. Whomever had designed the station did not have scenic views in mind when it came to methods of moving rapidly about beneath the surface. When I exited the shuttle, along with others in uniform, I may as well have not moved at all. It looked the same; hallways that were well lit in shades of grey and black, metal floors, sterile white rooms filled with complicated equipment. But here, I could see far more techs and uniformed officers than soldiers and pilots. Someone jostled me with a quick apology and then raced ahead, a holocron cube in hand as he disappeared through the doorway which lead to my destination. I could hear the low murmur of constant conversation blended with the hum of machinery spilling into the corridor as I approached.

Inside, I was immediately greeted by a large, dark room lined with displays illuminated in greens and reds and blues. It was divided into levels. The floor of the upper level, which is where I found myself, was comprised of a shining black metal walkway that led straight ahead to a vast, curving bank of transparent screens showing digital readouts and schematics in green. This leve's floor also curved around the circumference of the circular room. Men and women in uniform stood before the monitors, in discussion, but none that I saw remained still for long. The entire space was filled with constant, if subdued, activity.

On either side of the walkway, I could see the level below, visible as two semicircles bisected by the upper walkway, lined with techs at individual terminals. They were talking into coms, to each other, or silently hard at work on the tasks before them. Every wall, it seemed, contained some diagram or display and language that looked to be Common, but might as well have been a different language for how well I understood it. I could tell that at least half of the screens were devoted to Starkiller's Superweapon, though.

One three-dimensional display, in the center of the top level between myself and the large displays at the far end, grabbed my attention in particular. It was encircled by a console and manned by four techs. In the projected hologram above it, I could see a three-dimensional animated loop with cycling data readouts on the console. The image itself depicted a yellow sphere that resembled a star beside a blue spheroid that I recognized immediately as Starkiller Base by the features on its surface. As the animation played, I watched the sun figure decreased in size and mass. As this happened, parts of the base lit up in an angry red, causing much argument between the techs at the station, followed by a series of adjustments typed into the console before the animation reset. I didn't understand much of what I saw, but from what I'd gleaned from that meeting between Rhidan and the other officers, and from my scanning of the public database, this was not the first star system that the base had occupied, and the implications of what might have happened to the previous sun system were mind boggling. I knew that I was in the heart of the base's operations and I couldn't deny the small thrill I felt for having access, however little I could understand, to such privileged information.

I tore my attention away, remembering my purpose. I had to scan the outer edges of the room before I saw General Hux. He was facing away from me, a quarter of the way clockwise around the circumference of the top level. He was standing behind a tech and pointing at a screen in front of them.

"No no, this won't do," he said, his lilting voice clear above the low din, followed by some more words that were lost on me. He hadn't yet noticed me. I stared at him curiously, thoughts hovering just around the edges of my mind, and then he looked up and our eyes met. He was still severely handsome, hair perfectly parted and combed back, face clean shaved. But now his pale blue eyes were accompanied by thinly shadowed rings beneath them. He had lost yet more weight, I noticed, but it seemed that his uniform had been altered to accommodate it and fit him snugly. Without breaking our gaze, he approached, calm and detached.

"Riala."

"General." My expression, like his, was neutral, and further concealed by my trusted veil.

"Perhaps we can speak in my office," he said. I agreed, my curiosity was only just greater than my uncertainty. He led me out of the room and across the corridor. Inside one of the doors was what appeared to be a war room. The center was dominated by a large, low, rectangular table, and in the middle of the table were positioned multiple holovid projectors. They showed nothing now, and the tech stations on either side were empty. On the other side of this this was another, smaller room dominated by a desk. On the back wall appeared to be a window to the outside, showing a view high above the snowy landscape, now illuminated by daylight. I realized that it was merely a vid feed, as far beneath the surface as we were. The room was neat, but I could see signs that he had been spending much of his time in there.

Four ceramic cups with dried brown hotcaff residue on and in them sat together to one side of the desk, and plastiprene missives were stacked next to a couple of deactivated transparent data pads across the middle. A trash can was full of crumpled plastiprene sheets, and others were balled up on the floor. Obviously none had come to clean in awhile, and it was clear that Hux's priorities were elsewhere. A black synthwool overcoat hung neatly from the back of the chair on a hanger, with a cold weather officer's hat resting atop it. I could see that it had been recently used.

When Hux entered ahead of me, he indicated a chair in front of the desk. I preferred to stand. Now that we were out of sight of other people, I felt that it was important that he not forget that our heights matched. Whatever I could do to maintain control over the situation. When I didn't sit, neither did he, and instead stood beside the desk, his arms clasped behind his back in a stance that I was sure was intended to look relaxed, but struck me as slightly forced.

"What can I do for you, General?" I asked, my voice steady, calm. I watched him very closely.

"I apologize for the lack of decorum in summoning you. I have been very occupied of late." He spoke this line as if he'd rehearsed it, but I didn't doubt the truth in it. I'd seen how relatively chaotic it was. I didn't take the General as someone who apologized for much in earnest, for how strangely it seemed to sit on his tongue.

"I'm here, General. Please just tell me what you want. I, too have other matters that need my attention." That fucking plant, I thought to myself. He cleared his throat and looked down at his desk.

"I know of your hatred for me. Perhaps it is understandable, if misplaced." I felt my eyes narrow despite my cool control. He didn't see this. "I find myself concerned for your well-being, regardless. I have but one simple warning to offer you. Do not trust Ren with your feelings." My eyes widened, and my brows rose of their own volition before I could control my expression so that it didn't reflect my utter bafflement.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," I replied neutrally. Inside, my pulse started to quicken. Still, he didn't meet my eyes, and I found this to be very strange. Hux was usually so arrogant, so domineering in occupational contexts.

"Though you may try to hide it, I know that your interest in him goes beyond that of a student to her master. I can tell that you're drawn to him. He represents the unknown. The forbidden, the mysterious." Beneath my veil, my cheeks began to feel warm as I realized that Hux's assertion was at least partially accurate. I could never let him know, even if I was taken off guard by his apparent insight, coming as it was from someone who struck me as rather self-absorbed and narcissistic.

"I think you don't understand as well as you think," I answered, willing my words to not sound petulant or defensive. Stay neutral, hear what he has to say, leave, I thought to myself.

"I know, Riala, because I have been in your place. Ren and I have known one another for longer than you might realize. I first encountered him when I was not much older than you."

"You knew each other?" I reiterated, my curiosity continuing to override my aversion to the present company.

"I was the son of an affluent man in an important family. He was the Supreme Leader's newest pupil. I was well known among my peers, and though he didn't attend the academy as I did, everyone knew of him. It was inevitable that we would meet." Finally he looked up, and I could see why he had avoided looking directly at me. Behind his tired eyes shone glimmers of pain and resentment, dulled by time. "I was fascinated by him. He was powerful, passionate. Perhaps even a little frightening. Everyone talked about him. When I was alone, he dominated my thoughts. I couldn't escape him."

I felt more color rise to my cheeks as I began to comprehend what Hux was telling me. Neither of the men had struck me as being interested in other males, but then I suppose that my only knowledge of that had been through Dannon and the things he'd told me.

"General," I started, trying to find the words for all of the questions I had. I wished I could read thoughts as Kylo Ren could, see for myself if what he said were true. Finally, I asked, "what happened?" His posture straightened more, and he effected calm control, his voice neutral and lacking in its usual arrogance.

"The details are between myself and Ren. Take heed when I tell you not to trust him. He is a servant of Supreme Leader Snoke, first and foremost, but he has his own motivations for seeking power. There are many things you don't know about him, things which you may never know. Nonetheless, they guide his actions. He cares not for you, or anyone else."

I didn't want to listen to this. Kylo Ren was returning tomorrow and I needed to focus on doing as he'd asked. I could tell that Hux had likely overcome much in telling me this, I was not blind enough to assume full dishonesty, but at the same time I could not trust anything he told me.

"What exactly is your point? You're no different."

"The difference is that my goals are plain. More than anything I desire to assert the First Order's authority over the galaxy, to bring order to the chaos that the Republic seeks to establish. I won't deny that I will do whatever it takes to accomplish this. Ren's motivations are less clear. I do not doubt his loyalty to Supreme Leader Snoke, but I question his priorities in regards to everything else."

"I see, there is the truth of it," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Your attempts to regain control over me are transparent, General. I know that you and Kylo Ren have a rivalry. I am just one more pawn in your conflict."

Hux sighed and turned away. His back was tense.

"Perhaps to him you are merely a pawn. To me, you are far more important. He would use you for his own ends and then discard you. I would ensure that you had an established place within the First Order. Take part in its ascent to galactic sovereignty. You are safest and most secure at my side. I may be cruel, but at least I am predictable. There is no knowing what the Commander-Inquisitor is capable of. He's utterly changeable, and his grasp on his emotions is, at best, as unstable as the crystal that powers his saber."

I didn't know what he meant by that, as I'd only seen Kylo Ren's saber in its deactivated form, but it did make me curious. "Even if you speak the truth, and I suspect that you do, it doesn't matter. He is the only one who can teach me to fulfil my potential through the Force, the only one who has seen what I might achieve with the right guidance. He has given me true freedom, and in exchange I have an opportunity to become something far greater than the slave I used to be. Already his efforts have born fruit. Surely you can see the benefits of my remaining under his instruction."

"He will hurt you in ways that can't be seen," he said, a little too quickly. I could hear the emotion rising in his voice, the faint color coming to his pale, noble features. "I am merely trying to protect you from him. Even if you refuse me, accept my advice. Keep it in your thoughts when you next see him."

"I have heard your words, General. Am I correct in assuming that our business concluded?" My voice had an edge to it which I couldn't keep out. Anger was starting to gain mass inside of me, and I didn't want to lose control of it here. Hux sighed and turned to me fully. His icy blue eyes searched mine, and again I was struck by the very real grief in them, softening my anger somewhat.

"Was our arrangement so terrible for you? Did you find no enjoyment with me?"

I looked down for a moment, my expression hard as I considered. I could have lied. I could have told him that it meant nothing to me, that I hated every minute of it. But something about his candor to this point made me speak otherwise. "I enjoyed holding power over you. You are most appealing when you have lost all sense of control. You're almost human, then."

His cheeks colored more, and I detected the barest hint of nerves as his hands grasped one another behind his back. I knew he recalled the way it felt to have them tied there. My thoughts, too, had taken me there, and my irritation turned to arousal at remembered pleasures.

"I am Kylo Ren's student, now. What you ask of me can never be."

"You are his student, but you are not his property. I know you have noticed the change in me. I find myself unable to focus on anything but you when I am not on duty. You've done something to me that I fear is irreversible, and the only way to escape it is to pour my energies fully into the functions of my rank." I found that while I'd fully intended to leave moments before, I was rooted in place. I studied him closely as he spoke. "Despite our rift, I have done as you asked. I have done nothing to alleviate my carnal needs, nor have I returned to the brutal pleasures I once relied upon for recreation. If you will not stand at my side, at least let me benefit from this hold you have over me. I ask this of you in fear that my performance as commander may soon suffer."

He reached out, like so many times before, as if to touch me, but his hand fell short. I could see the desperation in his eyes, the plea. And it gave me a sick thrill. I considered what he said carefully. I did enjoy some aspects of our arrangement, but the main issue that had tainted was the control that Hux ultimately had over me. Now, he had none. He could no longer dictate the terms. In this context, he was as powerless as he had once pretended to be. Finally, I answered, my chin raised haughtily as I chose my words with great care.

"If I call on you again, General, know that it will be on my terms. Whatever they might be. I don't want the First Order to be affected by your apparent loss of focus, but if I see you, it will be for my pleasure and no other purpose."

Hux's cold eyes glittered as he heard these words, and when he spoke, his words were soft. "As long as it does not interfere with my duties, I will comply with your command, Riala."

"You'd best return to your duties, General."

He nodded, and I turned to leave. Before I stepped through the door, a thought occurred to me. "And please, for the love of the Order, take care of your 'carnal needs' as necessary, Hux. I never actually expected you to adhere to that."

"Yes, Riala."

I walked out of the office and passed into the corridor outside of the war room, and it was only then that I let out the breath I'd been holding. I couldn't believe it. Everything that had just transpired in the office ran through my head. Most disquieting were his warnings about Kylo Ren. Though Hux hadn't said it outright, I could tell that somehow, the romantic affair that had once existed between the two men when they were younger had turned sour. Hux seemed to be the one most affected by it adversely, though, and I couldn't help but wonder the extent of it.

Still, his proposal, and my acceptance of it gave me yet another thing to consider. Half-formed ideas and thoughts flitted in and out of my mind as I made the long trek back to the section of base that held my living quarters. Already my shrewd mind was constructing designs for our next private meeting. I fully intended to take advantage to the apparently limitless control he had given me over him sexually and push to the limits, without surpassing, what he was actually willing to do. Kylo Ren's presence in my mind could not be pushed aside either, and in my ruminations, I barely noticed the corridors of the base passing by me.

When I returned to my quarters, I checked my terminal first, paying no attention to anything else. When I happened to glance up toward the plant, mild shock gripped me, and I stared at it. I couldn't believe my own eyes.

The once thriving plant was dying now, by all signs. The leaves, once thick, bright green, and waxy, had taken on a brownish yellow tint, and now hung limply from shriveled stems. I stood up to examine it from every angle. I touched a leaf and noted how its waxy, firm texture was now wrinkled and fragile. Its two-foot height was bowed, and even as I touched it, parts snapped off easily and fell to the table's surface where others already lay. I was at turns horrified and fascinated, for I knew without a doubt that somehow I had caused this. Finally, I had something to report to my teacher.

'Kylo Ren, my attempts to move a living object, a plant, have ultimately failed. My experiment did produce results, however unexpected they might have been. After spending much time trying to move the thing with my mind, my power seems to have killed it, though after some delay. As much dark power as I infused it with in my misguided attempts to move it, I have no doubt that no other factors contribute to its deterioration. I greatly look forward to your return so that you may better be able to guide me in this new discovery. I don't see how my plant-killing talent will help you or the First Order, but I do find it rather curious.'

I stared at my plant after I sent the message, and was baffled by the unexpected guilt I felt. It was just a plant, I thought. Why would I care if I'd somehow tortured it to death? I didn't think plants were capable of feeling pain, but it had certainly been affected. It was yet another facet of my Force sensitivity that was a mystery to me. I added it to the list. Internally, I gave a start when I heard the alert. Kylo Ren was communicating with me right now. My pulse raced, an involuntary reaction that gave more weight to General Hux's observations about Kylo Ren's affect on me. I shoved them aside as I read, savoring every line.

'Riala, this is very interesting. I suspect that telekinesis is beyond you, which is unfortunate. It is one of my favorite weapons, and an excellent tool for intimidation. However, it seems that you may have just tapped into an aspect of the Dark Side akin to a more profound manipulation of living matter beyond simply causing pain or moving it. Every living thing contains the essence of the Force, something that the Jedi were constantly going on about protecting or some such nonsense. However, the Sith knew that this essence was a very real thing which could be taken away. With practice, it could even absorbed to further fuel the adept's vitality and magnify power. I thought I saw some hint of it during the Bothan's interrogation, but I couldn't be sure. From what I have observed of you, and through my own research, I suggest that you look into the Writings of the Nightsisters and Mother Talzin, but remain objective as you read, Riala. Much of what these wielders of the so-called 'wild magic' believed, that the Force is neither light nor dark, contradicts the teachings of the Dark Side. In their lack of adherence to a single path, they never attained great power. Still, you may yet learn more of yourself through them. The Finalizer will make basefall in sixteen hours. See that you are ready for me.'

My heart fluttered. He had no idea just how ready for him I was. I glanced back to the plant, unable to fully shake the sense of unease its current deteriorated state instilled in me, but my excursion outside of my tiny quarters had given me a renewed focus. I sent Phasma a message to let her know that I would unfortunately be too preoccupied with my studies to attend her lesson. Before I began to scan the database for information on the Nightsisters, I made sure to move the plant and place it in the corridor outside of my quarters.


	24. The Return of Kylo Ren, Part One

I knew that Kylo Ren arrived early long before I could even receive any kind of summons. A heaviness to the air, so slight as to barely register in my awareness, made me put down my data screen and listen for something beyond the quiet of my room, something that couldn't actually be heard. I felt a curious tug in my chest, the same that I'd felt that day which drew me to the black corridor, and then I was on my feet and out the door as surely as if I'd seen him with my own eyes. The closer I came to where the feeling guided me, the stronger it became, and the more urgently I walked. Personnel, servants, and slaves all stepped out of my way as if they, too, could sense my purpose.

I was waiting in the large baseside hangar bay just after his personal command shuttle docked, with its bladed black wings folded up, giving it the appearance of a dive-bombing rakkwing. Even at rest it was intimidating.

I was not alone in meeting Kylo Ren. Soon after me, a male officer in a central intelligence uniform with a pair of elite guards approached from the opposite side of the bay and stood before the docking ramp to receive him. As the ramp folded down, I felt my heart begin to thrum in my ears. I couldn't help it, I was shaking in my core, even if I held the rest of my body still. This is ridiculous, I told myself, even as I was unable to tear my eyes away from the door, hungry for the first sight of him.

He emerged from the shadowed interior like a sudden storm cloud, and swiftly descended down the ramp, heavy steps clanking on the metal, towards myself and the intelligence officer. The crew of his vessel filed out after him and maintenance techs moved in the check the systems and refuel, but I could only watch him. As he approached, his face turned toward me. Though I couldn't see his eyes beneath his black mask, I felt the convergence of our gazes like a spark of errant atmospheric electricity. It took all of my willpower to keep my face calm, to remain outwardly cool as Kylo Ren stopped a few paces away. I felt that I would fold backwards beneath the immensity of his presence and the command in his carriage. Something in my belly twitched.

A throat cleared to my left and Kylo turned his face, breaking our eye contact. I felt like I could breathe again.

"Welcome back. You have something for me, yes?" The officer said, an edge of impatience in his tone.

Without looking, Kylo Ren motioned behind him. I felt a tiny surge of power and shortly afterward, a black-suited storm trooper approached from inside the command shuttle. Something passed from his hand to the intelligence's officer's, but it happened so quickly I didn't get a glimpse of it.

"Very well, sir. Command will be very pleased," the officer said, excitement in his voice. Kylo Ren stared at him silently, and after a moment, the officer decided to leave. He turned toward me again, and I bowed my eyes and face.

"It is good to see you, my master."

" **Riala.** " He said, simply. The sound of my name spoken in his thick, modulated voice gave me a slight chill, and I struggled to maintain a grip on myself. " **We have much to discuss. Walk with me.** "

He waited for me to move beside him, a subtle gesture that nonetheless filled me with satisfaction, and then his long legs carried him out of the hangar. I found myself racing to keep pace at his side as his robes swept out behind him. He was walking faster than normal, it seemed, and I wondered at his excited state. I wondered if its cause was in any way related to my own. When he didn't speak, I did.

"Kylo Ren. I have eagerly awaited your return. I gather that your mission was a success?" I asked lightly as we moved through the corridors and approached a lift.

" **It was.** "

"I suppose its purpose is none of my business?" He had never once indicated why he had left in the first place, and I hadn't dared to ask. But now the question brimmed to the top as we stood next to one another in the lift and ascended. Thoughts of ancient necromantic artifacts hovered around the edges of my mind.

" **That's right,** " he said, simply. My elation quickly soured,. He turned his face toward me slightly, so that a small slice of his mask was visible between the folds of his hood. " **I can't tell you why I left. What I can tell you is that I don't intend to leave you again anytime soon.** " I almost ran into a passing TIE pilot, distracted as I was by my flip-flopping emotions. He faced forward once more, and my mind raced. The lift opened, and I almost forgot to follow when he stepped out. " **Now that I have fulfilled my duty, I intend to train you properly.** "

My heart pounded and I tried to swallow the dryness from my throat. I looked around us and realized that at some point, he'd led us away from the main parts of the base. I recognized the approach. He was taking me to the dark corridor.

"I am ready, Kylo Ren," I said, unable to stop the slight quiver in my voice from revealing my eagerness. In my mind, I raced through the teachings of Darth Sidious, the tenets of the Dark Side, and even the lessons from Captain Phasma. I steadied my breathing, tried to find my center.

" **Are you?** " His velvet voice was dubious, nearly mocking. My steadiness crumbled as my irritation rose atop the wriggling pile of emotions inside of me. As he led me down the corridor, I began to concentrate my irritation until it was a tight mass in my gut. When I spoke again, I had full control over my voice.

"I've done all that you asked of me. Almost entirely without your guidance, I have started to master my emotions." I raised my chin so that even though he stood taller than me, I could look down my nose at him. "They do not control me as they once did."

He merely looked at me, none of his internal thoughts readable in his body language. The ebon mask was severe and silent. He gave nothing away. My irritation grew and its tight mass began to unravel in the face of his apparent disdain. Why was he acting this way? A bolt of uncertainty pierced me as I recalled Hux's warnings. It was tinged with anger that made my neck feel hot. The corridor around us began to fade as I felt the beginnings of the pinpricks of his energy on my face.

" **I see.** " The pinpricks receded, and I had the sudden sense that I'd just been tested, and failed. I dropped my eyes uncertainly to his black-clothed chest, the broad black leather belt around his waist. My face was heated as embarrassment quickly began fill me. I'd so proudly bragged about my emotional control to him. Yet it had taken very little for him to provoke me.

"You're my teacher. Teach me," I said then, raising my eyes. My voice was low, but my words contained a challenge in them that I knew he heard.

" **The lesson has already begun.** " He activated the panel beside the door, and it opened into blackness. I could hear liquid dripping somewhere, and judging by the space between the echoes, the space was very large. Chill, damp air touched me and seemed to sink beneath my clothes and my skin. I shivered.

Kylo Ren stepped through the door, and immediately, his black form was swallowed by the darkness. My nerves vibrated, my pulse was steady and fast, and I listened to hear his heavy bootsteps as they impacted a hard stone floor. I followed. When the door closed behind me, any trace of light vanished. There was silence but for the steady, muffled drip. My breath sounded unnaturally loud in my ears.

" **I've noticed that your abilities seem dependent on visual contact,** " he spoke. Within the cavernous space, his voice ricocheted off of every surface, almost as if there were more than one of him. " **Try to use your 'Gaze' on me now.** "

"I can't see you," I replied, hating the way that my uncertainty was only magnified in every echo. Despite the fact that I knew it was Kylo Ren that I spoke to now, fear began to climb.

" **That is the point. Your sight is not a necessity. By using your eyes, you only impede the true sight which the Force can provide.** "

I drew in an unsteady breath. My mind was playing tricks on me, pulling whatever it could from the impenetrable blackness, conjuring shapes without form.

I closed my eyes and listened. My heartbeat seemed loud, but it was only in my ears. My breathing, however, was audible. I forced it to slow to hide my current state of fear, even as my limbs felt cold with it. Slowly, uncertainly, my awareness began to spread outward from myself into my immediate surroundings. A familiar heaviness began to settle, a slight tug in my chest. Carefully, I turned. And then, I realized, I could feel him. In the blackness behind my lids, the formless shapes began to coalesce. Tiny points of light began to rise. Not as though they appeared from nothing, but as if they had already been there and I was just now beginning to see them. Immediately around my feet, I could see a flat array of points, like motes of dust in sunlight, following what I realized was the contours of the floor. As I focused on these, they began to spread, encompassing a wider radius. At first, they seemed colorless, but as the space around me began to fill with these dim points, I saw a the slightest hint of red about two yards in front of me, gathered in one place. It contrasted with the points of light on the floor, which I realized now were a dun brown. In accordance with the tug in my chest, I knew that the red mass of points was the form of Kylo Ren. I breathed, then, as I was overcome with wonder.

"Is this what you see?" I asked, breathlessly.

" **It is different for everyone. Some do not possess the Dark Vision. I am pleased that you do.** "

I slowly turned in a circuit, my lids clenched tight as if to hold onto the strange world I saw around me. I knew that the room was dark, but as I felt outward with my power, I could see the walls of the large chamber fill in, jagged surfaces of roughly hewn rock arched upward to a high ceiling. I realized that this strange dark vision was not dependent on which direction I faced, and I stopped myself when I faced the vague cloud of red particles that comprised my teacher's body once more. Details were not clear, but I could sense his position. I wanted to move to him, to touch him, to find out if what I sensed was real.

" **You really must learn to guard your thoughts, Riala,** " he said neutrally. Instantly, my face burned, my pulse jumped, and the world went dark, occupied as I was by my embarrassment. " **Use your Gaze on me.** "

I steadied myself, pushed aside my discomfort, and concentrated until the room filled in once more around me. There he was, my teacher. I could almost make out the shape of his long arms and legs extending from the trunk of his body. Despite myself, I wondered if I was seeing him without clothes, and I chuckled inwardly. Still, I reached inside of myself, pulled strands of my negative emotions, constantly bubbling deep within me, and I let them grow in my chest. I could feel the swell, and then I pulled it into my eyes, still closed. Deliberately, I hurled a small piece of that anger toward him. I was amazed as the Force I had just chucked at him appeared as an actual bolt, like an arrow, of bright red. It collided with the particles that comprised Kylo Ren's shape, flared, then absorbed into them, and I heard him grunt almost inaudibly, though he didn't move.

" **Yes, good,** " he said, audibly pleased. I couldn't help the pleasure I felt when I heard his words, and my body started to feel warm despite the cold dampness around us. " **You see the world now as the Force has revealed it to you. Know that your eyes can deceive you.** "

"Yes, Kylo Ren." Even so, after being separated from him for so long, being so near to him was causing quite a bit of distraction. Somewhere, the desire to see his face, his actual face, came to me. This was all well and good, but I couldn't keep my thoughts from straying to that one tantalizing glimpse I'd had of the white, firm skin of his abdomen, the feel of my bare hand on his hip bones. I was aware, then, of the prickling sensation of his aura on my face and the front of me, and with my Dark Sight, I could see red points exuding from his form and gently washing over me. My irritation returned when I realized what he was doing.

"Cut it out," I warned, aware of my impudence and not caring. This was the second time he'd detected what I was thinking. Was nothing private?

" **Your thoughts are as clear as day, Riala. Are you truly so incapable of guarding them?** "

"It's difficult to guard against such an experienced Force user, Kylo Ren."

" **It's not so difficult as you might imagine. These things you are thinking are** _ **especially**_ **loud.** " He was trying to provoke me. The world around me began to fade out as my distraction threatened my concentration. Stubbornly, I fought to hold on, and I began to picture a wall between me and him, something behind which I might hide. The prickling retreated, and I saw the motes of his aura roll away so that they were a pace in front of me. " **Yes, that's right. Shield yourself from me.** "

His form began to move forward then, toward me. I could hear his boots on the floor, heavy and echoing, and the wave of aura pushed ahead before him. I felt an almost palpable pressure as his Force particles battered at my wall, and I found myself backing away for fear that they would break through. He walked faster, and my pulse began to race as I struggled to maintain the invisible barrier against his gathering presence. He was starting to defeat my protections, tiny points here and there touched me behind the wall, and I could hear my breathing, so loud now in the cavernous space, only grow louder. Maintaining concentration against his aura's assault was making me start to sweat.

"Kylo Ren," I gasped, anger and confusion welling upward. "What are you doing?"

" **Sometimes it is not enough to merely protect yourself. Sometimes you must attack.** "

I loosed another bolt of red anger toward his encroaching form, and though it struck him, he seemed to shrug it off. My wall weakened.

"I don't want to attack you," I said, fear edging my words. _I'm not strong enough_ , I finished the thought in my head. I could sense the actual stone wall coming up behind me as I continued to shuffle backwards, and still he came. The mass of particles that was his aura was swelling and expanding like rolling storm clouds of red, and they buffeted against my defenses until I felt them weaken further.

" **Oh yes you do.** **Defend yourself** **, Riala.** "

My back hit the uneven wall, and I felt the dampness sitting on the rock start to soak into my clothing. My anger flared, but the heat I felt had begun to gather in another place, and I knew suddenly what to do. As my barrier began to fall, I called forth the emotions tied to a very recent memory. I felt the pinpricks of power surround me, sink into my mind, but at that moment, my mind was in a different place.

My bare back was on the floor, and Phasma's luminously flushed face was above me, her grey eyes glittering as our bodies were pressed together. Her lips locked with mine, and my loins radiated heat and sensation as her large fingers moved in and out of my vagina, her thumb on my clit. Mentally, I apologized to Phasma for utilizing such a personal moment, but I needed _something,_ and my intimacy with her was so visceral. I heard Kylo Ren's gasp echo off of the walls back in the present, and his aura retreated instantly.

" **Stop** _ **doing**_ **that,** " he growled thickly.

"You told me to attack you," I answered quickly, my breaths coming fast as very real warmth pulsed between my legs.

" **That isn't what I meant. That will not work against an enemy.** "

"It seems to be very effective against you," I retorted, regaining my confidence and my annoyance.

" **I am trying to teach you how to use your Force as a weapon. I cannot do this when you repeatedly derail me with such thoughts.** "

"Why is that, Kylo Ren? Why are my tactics so distracting?" I was now taunting him, and I pushed away from the wall and moved toward him. Now it was he that took a step back. I could sense his anger and frustration, and it only made me feel more sure.

" **I do not concern myself with such base matters,** " he answered. Despite the vocoder distortion, I heard the defensiveness in his voice, and I knew he was lying, concealing something. In the darkness, I smiled ruefully.

"Is that so?" In a moment, I thought back to that heated moment in the interrogation room, the way that his large hand had ripped my clothes in its quest to get beneath them. Remembered arousal gathered deep in my belly, and with a bolt of spite mixed with my desire, I struck him, drawing from that feeling. He gasped again, and stumbled. "Defend yourself, Kylo Ren," I taunted, using his own words.

Suddenly, I was blinded. The Force-granted vision of the room around me disappeared as interior lights flared, and I clenched my eyes against the sudden brightness. I didn't realize that my eyes had been open until that moment, and now greenish blobs filled the center of my vision, and I tried to blink away the daggers of discomfort as my darkness-adjusted pupils retracted with painful alacrity. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the brightness, though the green blob still dominated the center of my vision. The room we were in was indeed large, and we seemed to be standing on the lower level. A set of stairs to our right led to an elevated platform of stone, though nothing was upon it. I looked toward Kylo Ren, my eyes narrowed, anger writhing inside of me from his dirty trick.

I could see that he was breathing hard. " **Perhaps that is enough for now,** " he said. I continued to glare.

"No, I don't think so," I said. Despite the helmet over his face, I could see that he was taken aback. I took some steps toward him. He didn't move, though his face turned to the side. I knew he still looked at me. "Has it been so long since you've had sex?" I knew I was being dangerously bold, but I could no longer contain my curiosity.

" **I manage my own needs,** " he answered. The near petulance of his tone was ridiculous when spoken through his helmet. I felt myself sneer beneath my veil. Decisively, I removed it, let it drop to the floor.

"Take off your helmet, Kylo Ren," I said. I felt his aura return, knowing that the brashness of my order was bordering on contempt of his position as my teacher. "If you are so impervious to such 'base matters,' prove it. Show me your face."

There was a moment of hesitation, but then he raised his hands and lowered his hood. The click of his helmet disengaging echoed in the space, and then he lifted it away. Beneath, his pale face was covered in a sheen of sweat, his cheeks flushed. His eyes were hard as they looked at me, his full lips parted. He was angry, of course, but clearly something more as well.

"I will use whatever weapon I have at my disposal. By denying me this, you are limiting my potential," I said now with great care, measured respect in my tone. He glanced down, his brows tight over his eyes.

"That ability is not part of the Dark Side," he said. The sound of his unfiltered voice washed me with such pleasure that I had to momentarily close my eyes and quiet my involuntary thoughts.

"True, I found no sign of it in the records. But as you said, it is different for everyone. You've seen the effect it can have on others. You know the effect it has on you."

His dark eyes moved back to my face. His brows were still furrowed, his eyes narrowed, but the light in them was not anger. "The effect you have on me is not entirely do to your Force ability."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed and his eyes moved up, roaming the ceiling, as if avoiding me, and my anger softened slightly. I saw his jaw clench, his lips purse slightly as he tried to find the words. When he looked at me again, his brows had relaxed, but his expression was no less intense. "I thought that I might be able to rise above it. To let my desire for ultimate power overcome any physical distractions. As I honed my skills through the years under the guidance of Lord Snoke, I made my body into a tool, a weapon."

"So... you haven't had sex with anyone?"

His face flushed darker, and again his eyes darted around the room, anywhere but directly at me. "There have been a couple of people, in my past, but I put such things behind me. Attachments can become weaknesses."

"But passion is one of the most important qualities driving the Dark Side. I learned this very quickly in my studies. Strong emotions, anger, fear, despair. Does not lust fall into that category? Sexual arousal?"

"I've managed quite well without it. Even so, you seem especially capable of disarming me."

"You were unprepared for my libidinous thoughts," I supplied, remembering our first meeting, and the way that I had gained ground against his mind probe.

"Yes. Yet there was something more," he said, his voice low as he looked at me sideways, his eyes moving from my own, to my lips, and lingering there. "It was your drive, Riala. Your consuming desire to become something greater. Your utter defiance in the face of my power. So few challenge me the way you did. It was this, above all, that made me decide to accept you as my student. You seem to embody, through nothing but your own will, the qualities of the Dark Side."

My face burned hotly against his praise before I remembered that my emotions, like his, were plain on my expression. At this moment I didn't care. My pulse had quickened, and my stomach was trembling. "But my Force sensitivity is limited. I will never be able to attain skills like yours."

He still held his helmet in one gloved hand when he stepped forward until he was looking down at me, his eyes still on my lips. "Upon reflection, I realized that you are not so limited as you are skilled in ways that I could not have expected. It's true that you will never become a Knight of Ren. But I believe that Darth Sidious himself would have seen value in you were he still alive."

My eyes, which dropped to his chest, were wide, my mind racing as my joy and anxiety battled for dominance inside of my chest, which felt that it might burst with how hard my hard hammered against it. Darth Sidious, my hero, would have seen value in me. My dreams, so private, so ridiculous, seemed more real when spoken by Kylo Ren, so much more tangible. Languidly, he raised a gloved hand in my peripheral vision, finger pointed, and with the lightest of touches, he trailed it down my upper arm. The leather left a line of fire in its wake that rippled outward and magnified.

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a small, tentative spark between my legs. When I looked up at him, I had but a moment to see the way his brows furrowed now, though not in anger, and the way his lower lip trembled. As in a dream, I saw my hand come to rest on his chest and felt the way his heart pounded, like mine. The way his breaths were coming fast and shallow, like mine.

Anticipation flared, and I could think of nothing else.


	25. The Return of Kylo Ren, Part Two

So close. We were so close. His pulse seemed to course through my hand and into me. I swallowed.

"Still," he said then, his voice throaty as his hand dropped away from my arm, leaving nothing but a greedy throb behind it. "I feel that it is best if we do not allow ourselves to become distracted from our goals."

My mouth gaped incredulously, disbelief momentarily washing away my desire. He closed his eyes and turned his face to the side. I saw the high collar of his clothing move when he swallowed thickly.

"But passion.. the Dark Side," I stuttered, having trouble keeping my irritation, which had been held at bay until this moment, from sinking into my words. My wrath, powerful, flared. I was sick of his mixed signals.

"We should focus on other matters, Riala. It would not serve either of us to give in. We should focus the energy of our emotions in productive ways."

"Stop talking, Kylo." My Gaze flared with the words almost unintentionally, muddling his brain with the weight of the anger in my heart and the heat in my loins. He was momentarily disarmed. Before he could react to my order or the fact that I had not addressed him properly, I snaked my hand around, gripped the hair on the back of his head, and pushed his face into mine until our lips met.

I stole the kiss, and I savored it. His aura flared, surrounded me with pinpricks so intense it hurt, but still I didn't let him go, my arms fighting against him as he tried to pull back. I opened my mouth to his, penetrated his lips with my tongue. I felt my own power flare, beat his away. Finally, as if responding to my unspoken demands, his own mouth opened and our tongues warred ravenously. The taste of our mingled saliva was sweet.

He dropped his helmet, a loud, solid clank that echoed in the room, and then both of his hands were free. His strong arms wrapped around me, gripped me tightly, crushed me against him, even as our auras buffeted one another. Suddenly I couldn't tell where he ended and I began. Our physical bodies seemed to blend with the Force that surrounded us.

Part of me knew that if he had truly wanted me to stop, he would have simply held me in place as he had before. Instead, his tall body curved forward over me, his hands in their gloves gripping my back, the cheeks of my ass through my uniform, holding me to him in an iron embrace. He began to move forward, and I stumbled with him until my back hit the wall. He trapped me against it. We broke for breath, and then both of us were panting, busily working to remove one another's clothes.

I heard a rip, and part of me knew I'd have to have my clothing repaired again. The other part of me was focused single-mindedly on the task of getting Kylo Ren naked. As if sensing my desire, he quickly removed his belt, tugged the sleeveless outer robe over his head, mussing his hair, and let it fall to the floor. Beneath he wore a tight, black, ribbed tunic over pants. He ripped off his gloves, unfastened the neck guard from the back, and let it drop. The moment I saw the bare skin of his neck, I stood on my toes, pulled him down, and began planting open-mouthed kisses on it, unable to keep from tasting him any longer.

He wrapped me into the circle of his long, strong arms, his hands busy trying to find the seam of my uniform. Finally, he found it, and when his fingertips touched the bare skin of my back, a shudder passed through my entire body and converged on the muscles between my legs, which clenched so tightly and suddenly that I gasped. In that second, when my my mouth was free from his neck, he captured it with his lips and kissed me so ravenously that it seemed he would devour me. Our teeth were scraping one another's lips and our tongues fought for control over the battlefield within our wanting mouths.

I pushed him off of me slightly to tug my uniform down, and let it fall to my feet. He looked at my bare upper body with such frightening hunger that I found myself stepping backwards involuntarily until my back pressed against the rocky wall. When the damp chill touched my boiling hot skin, the shock of the cold made me gasp. His aura crashed into me seconds before he did, and then his large hands were gripping my hips, lifting me against the wall, pushing himself between my legs so that the firm bulge of his erection met the throbbing heat of my groin. Almost reflexively, I wrapped my legs around him, pulled him tighter so that his erection ground into the slick wetness between my legs, and we both groaned simultaneously as hot waves of urgent need generated by the friction between us radiated throughout us.

I tried at that point to pull his tunic off, but he was so busy trying to remove my leggings that I couldn't get it past his chest. Still, my hands roamed appreciatively across his firm back, hot and slightly damp with his perspiration. His hard abdomen pressed against my bare stomach.

We couldn't seem to keep our mouths off of each other for long, and they crushed together again. I pushed harder into him, pushed us away from the wall, and then I was being suspended in his arms with his bare hands digging into my upper thighs. Together, we sank to the floor, with me on top. His back was on his cast aside robes, but I felt how cold the floor was. Quickly, separating us as little as possible, I tugged one leg out of my leggings, and as he looked up at me, his dark, feverish eyes were on my lips, and he began to unfasten the front of his pants.

I didn't breathe. His hand pulled his pants open, and then, as if in slow motion, brought the hard length of his white cock out into the open air, under my voracious gaze. I fell upon him then, my legs half on his robes, half on the cold floor, and the difference in temperatures made me shudder. His arms were around my waist and he pulled me down, my breasts flattened against his chest, and the contact with my hard nipples sent dual shocks through me. Our mouths met. At this moment, my groin was hovering above his cock. Suddenly, with dizzying speed and mind-bending strength, he rolled to the side, taking me with him, until suddenly he was over me. For a breathless, sweaty moment, our eyes locked.

He leaned down so that his hot, moist breath was in my ear. "Riala," he whispered roughly.

"Fuck me, Kylo," I grunted, thrusting my hips upward wantonly so that my swollen, aching labia brushed the moist tip of his thick cock. A shiver went through him. With one hand, he pushed my hips down flat against the floor, and I was grateful for the barrier his robes provided between myself and the chilly stone. The other hand lighted on my heaving bosom and moved below, flat against my belly, his long fingers lightly digging into my soft skin, tickling me as they brushed my pubic hair and stopped just shy of my agonized bundle of nerves. Without moving away from my ear, he breathed, and the air brushed against every tiny hair there and sent shivers through me. I could hear his tongue moving thickly in his mouth and I longed to taste it again.

"First, I want to know if you've been doing your homework," he said breathily. In my confusion, I pulled my head away and looked at him like he had lost his damn mind.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

He was breathing hard, still, his eyes alight with a ferocious lust. "The code of the Sith. Recite it."

My heart was pounding as I thought. I could feel the heat between our groins, so achingly close that it seemed like I would burn up. Everything was so tight with need that I found it difficult to remember. I took a deep breath. And then another. And then I looked him in the eyes again, my gaze hard and wanting. I brought a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down so that his mouth was by my ear, and mine by his. Slowly, my voice a shaking whisper, I spoke.

"Peace is a lie," I said, painfully aware of my pulse between my legs, every nerve in my body held in suspense. I heard him let out a shuddering breath in my ear. "There is only passion."

And then, without pause, he flexed his hard hips forward so that the firm head of his cock slipped between my moist labia, pushing them apart. My hips rose up to meet him as if drawn by gravity, and as slick as my cunt was, his swollen cock immediately found my clenched hole. He entered me, and I could feel myself stretch around his girth almost painfully, but the ripples of delicious fire rolled outward and drove my hips further onto him. I groaned. This was unbearable.

"More. The rest," he grunted, holding himself still inside of me. I could feel his pulse through the walls of my vagina, and my muscles clenched reflexively around him and he sucked in a breath.

"Through passion I gain strength," I uttered hoarsely. Kylo Ren pulled out partway, the friction of his smooth skin against the tender walls of flesh inside of me sent more boiling waves radiating from the point of our convergence. "Through strength, I gain power." His cock thrust forward again, and I could feel his lower abdominal muscles clench. I cried out, feeling the hot waves of my passion lick at my feet, at my lower back.

"Through power," he started, his words rough in my ear as he pulled out again, further, leaving an unbearable emptiness inside of me.

"I gain victory," I grunted, my hips rising up, wanting him. He pushed forward so hard that my ass ground into the floor, and I felt the immensity of the scorching ocean rise up over my head, and over him.

"Touch yourself," he breathed, his sweaty chest slippery against mine. One of his strong arms slid under the back of my neck, cushioning me and holding our faces close. The other slid down my side, broad palm flat, and curved around the back of my hip, fingertips digging painfully into the swell of my buttock, gripping me so that I couldn't move if I wanted to.

At that moment, I could do naught but obey, as the roar of the ocean was in my ears, making it hard to think. I clenched my eyes, and all I saw was red, and all I felt was Kylo Ren's rigid cock inside of me, splitting me in my most tender place. His red, prickling aura surrounded me until I was consumed by it. I felt my own, not as strong, rising to meet his like billowing steam. One of my arms arm wrapped over his neck, my clawed fingers digging into the sweaty skin of his upper back. My other arm slipped between us, my hand snaking through the moist seam between our bodies until I found my clit. Slowly, I started rubbing it, and every movement of my fingertips sent lightning through me.

"Through power, I gain victory," I said quickly, trying to remember where I had left off, but as soon as I said 'victory,' he thrust into me. Pain and pleasure was a line of flickering power arcing upward and then settling in the base of my spine, and my last word was choked. His breaths were ragged, and his chest swelled against mine until I felt as though I were trapped between two rock faces, one boiling hot, one icy cold, and my insides quaked. I pinched and teased my own clit, and I found my pelvis moving toward him, hungrily desiring more of the careful, sensual violence of his sexual need.

"Through victory," I started, unable to find enough breath to give voice to the words, but he heard them. He pulled out, plunged in, and my breath was a sob. "My chains are broken."

He grunted, lifting his head and upper body off of me. His dark eyes were wide, frenzied, his face was flushed and shining with perspiration, and his thick, dark hair was in sweaty ringlets which framed his face. He lifted my thighs with his large hands, and I wrapped my legs around his firm, slender waist, locking him inside of me. Now I could see the smooth ripple of his stomach muscles, his long-sleeved black shirt was still pulled up and bunched above his chest as he looked down at me. Distracted, I had stopped touching myself, but one of his hands rested on top of mine and he grabbed it and began to move it so that my fingertips swirled against my throbbing clit again, and I gasped, felt my body burn with need.

"Say it," he groaned, looking me square in the eyes.

"The Force shall set me free."

Kylo Ren's hips rolled forward then and he began fucking me with regular, long thrusts, repeatedly filling and emptying me. Each thrust compounded with the waves of unbearable pleasure jolting me from my hand on my clitoris and slow fire started to engulf me. I felt myself being driven further down with each powerful movement of our joined hips, toward the immensity of the raw Force energy that seemed ever present somewhere far below. Locked as he was against me, I seemed to be dragging him with me.

Terror licked at me even as I fell willingly toward the blinding, invisible abyss. For so long, I had denied myself. But now, with Kylo Ren penetrating me, my cunt shuddering and clenching around him, I let go.

"What is that?" he groaned between each agonizing thrust. "Such _power_..." I couldn't answer him. Beneath my skin, I felt the waves of the ocean of fire crashing against one another. My hand on my clit moved with such speed that it became one all-encompassing sensation, and everything between my legs was a blaze of ecstasy. I knew I was gasping, crying out, but I could no more control it than I could stop my descent toward that infinitely huge mass.

The well of power started to spread outward, and Kylo Ren's motions become faster, more erratic as we both approached it. No longer was he speaking. Now, animal grunts were coming from deep in his throat. My eyes were closed, but with my free hand, I reached up, grabbed the hair at the back of his head, fingers grasping sweat-dampened hair, and I pulled him down on top of me, forced his mouth against mine, and as our lips warred, sought to encompass one another, we consumed our vocalizations like the sweetest nectar.

The immensely hot mass filled me as his cock penetrated me repeatedly, and I was lost far beneath the surface of the crimson ocean, drowning willingly in its raw Force. I felt that my skin would burst, and still I invited it in. _Fill me_ , I said, unsure whether I spoke aloud or only in my thoughts. _Fill me with your power_. I knew then that it might destroy me, and I didn't care.

Light as bright as a star and as red as blood crested behind my clenched lids when I came, and I was vaguely aware that my teeth sank into something soft, a shoulder. Waves of intolerable ecstasy ravaged me and awareness of my own body was lost to the sensations. I felt Kylo Ren's body crushed to mine, quaking and shuddering as he emptied himself inside of me, his cock surging with each wave of his orgasm, further exciting my overstimulated nerve endings.

It seemed to take ages for the sensations to subside, for my self-awareness to return. The redness behind my eyelids faded to black. First, I noticed my breathing. It was fast and ragged. My heart was hammering hard in my ears and at my throat. Then I noticed the weight of a body on top of mine, chest swelling and retreating, hot breath against my temple. My eyes closed, without entirely intending to, I felt my awareness spread out beyond myself and into the room. Red points of dim light were scattering away from us in the space within the room, like the remnants of a shock wave that was just now dissipating.

The body on top of me shakily lifted away, causing the air to move and chill my damp stomach, and my eyes flickered open. Kylo Ren's face looked drained, his dark eyes wide and hollow as he peered down at me. He seemed to be looking just past me, though. I unlocked my legs from around his waist and let them fall heavily to the floor on either side of him, and he slowly, agonizingly, pulled himself out of me. I felt a warm trail of wet traced on my thigh following behind his softening cock, his ejaculate, and I felt more start to seep out from inside of me. The sensation of emptiness was so suddenly staggering.

Numbly, he grabbed some of the fabric of his robes on the floor in one hand and started to dab ineffectively at my thigh, smearing his ejaculate on my skin, before he tried to clean himself off. He was still breathing hard, moving slowly and shakily. I, however, felt energized, giddy almost, as if our carnal act had infused me with extra vigor and life. He moved so that he was beside me, sitting so that the weight of his torso rested on one arm, and he almost sagged there. He said nothing, his mouth open as he breathed with increasing steadiness. I sat up and looked at him, a smile on the edges of my mouth, until his eyes met mine.

"Did you see it?" He asked me, his deep, hoarse voice quavering slightly. I tilted my head inquisitively, unsure of what he meant. "Did you see that enormous source of power? It was pulling me downward into it. I couldn't stop myself."

"I see it every time I come," I said calmly with a shrug. I glanced down and used his robes to wipe the semen off of my thigh more thoroughly. Already it was starting to dry, sticky, against my skin. "But I usually fight to stay away from it, so that I don't lose control." I looked up at him. "This time, I didn't."

"I've never seen anything like it. I didn't see it exactly, but I felt it. It felt like..."

"Like an entire planet of raw Force energy," I finished. He pushed himself so that he was sitting upright. A curious glint was in his dark eyes, and again, I felt perplexity at his behavior. Surely he'd seen it before, too. But then I realized, based on the way he seemed to deny himself pleasure, perhaps not.

"I think that's what it was," he said slowly. I was baffled, and my sex-addled brain was slow to understand his words.

"What do you mean?"

He looked away, to the floor, and then his eyes roamed up the walls of the space we occupied. "This planet was not chosen by chance, Riala. Starkiller Base occupies a very _specific_ planet. This forsaken ball of ice is actually quite special." He met my eyes again, and I was almost startled by the fervor in them. As the heavy warmth of my orgasm started to recede, my thoughts started to become more clear. I found my mind hungry to be filled, even as a small spark of curious dread bloomed somewhere deep inside of me.

"Please, tell me," I said, voicing my questions and scooting toward him. I craved his nearness as much as I craved his knowledge. I batted away the dread.

"This planet was once called Ilum. It was a place of immeasurable importance to the Jedi." He slapped his hand on the solid floor, and the sound echoed inside the chamber. "For thousands of years, they made pilgrimages to this desolate rock." He looked up, his brows hard as he considered his words. "You see, Ilum contained an unusually high concentrations of kyber crystal deposits. The crystals that are used to power the beam of suspended energy that comprise lightsabers."

As realization set in and a deep understanding of his words, I felt the heat drain from my face and I regarded the rough-hewn stone walls of the chamber around us as if I could somehow see the crystals of which he spoke.

"Where better to build a superweapon of immense power?" I said quietly to myself more than anything. My chest felt heavy, and I couldn't exactly explain why. Kylo Ren seemed oblivious.

"Yes, exactly. I think that well of power you see whenever you lose yourself. I think that is the core of Ilum. It is as if the planet itself seeks to reveal itself to you. As if it wants to grant you access to its power." His words were fast, but steady, and they held an edge of agitation.

"I'm not so sure that it wants anything," I said carefully. If anything, I thought to myself, I doubt it wants its spectacular Force energies to be perverted into a weapon that drains the sun for its fuel. I could not voice these thoughts, of course.

"I must report this to Supreme Leader," he said, his thoughts elsewhere already. He turned toward the stone platform that filled the other half of the room, as if he would somehow contact Snoke right then and there. Frantically I looked at him, reached out and brushed my fingers along his arm to regain his attention.

"You're going to tell him that you saw the core of Ilum while you were fucking me?" Kylo Ren faltered when I presented it in such a way. For some reason, I was starting to feel anxious. I didn't want him to tell Snoke anything about this. It felt too important, too private. Not our sex, no. But the well of power that always seemed to draw me toward it in moments of intense ecstasy, somehow that was too sensitive to share.

"Well... I suppose not. Not like that."

"Kylo Ren," I started, fixing his eyes with mine. "If this planet was chosen as the location of this base, I'm sure that the Supreme Leader is well aware of the power it contains. You should not waste his time with such trivialities. Perhaps," I said, raising my hand to his face, caressing it, wiping the sweat from his cheek and brow. He closed his eyes as if to savor my touch. "Perhaps you should wait. Continue training me. Report to Supreme Leader Snoke when you have something worthy of his time." Outwardly, I was calm. Inwardly, I was tense. Carefully, I put up my wall so that he might not detect my thoughts. He didn't seem to notice.

"I see what you mean." He leaned toward me, then, and my thoughts were forgotten as his pale face filled my vision. My breath, even now, caught in my throat at the intensity in his eyes. "I find myself wanting to return to that place even now, Riala." He tugged his shirt down so that it covered his torso, and then he brought a hand forward and rested it on my thigh. I felt an involuntary twitch between my legs again, followed by an almost painful spasm. Still overly sensitive from my explosive orgasm, I had to make myself breathe until it subsided, even as my body craved more. "It was intoxicating."

"Sometimes I find that it eludes me," I answered, my voice neutral as I lied. Quickly, I changed the subject. "But we can certainly try. I think I need to shower, don't you?"

"Oh," he said, looking down at himself as if suddenly aware of the sweat that was drying on our skin. "Yes, I suppose so. Later, after you've rested and refreshed yourself, we will continue your training." When I raised my brows, unsure whether he was propositioning me for more sex, he hurriedly clarified. "Meditation. I feel that your concentration will benefit from some inward reflection, deliberate focus. Your control over your feelings has improved, yes, but you need more practice."

I let out a sigh. It wasn't that wanted to avoid further intimacy, but something about the way he had been so fascinated by my sight of the well of raw Force power made me feel as though I needed to be more guarded around him. Hux's words echoed inside of my head and a sudden, irrational fear, that Kylo Ren would discard me if he somehow gained access to that power, took hold of me. As I looked at his face, I made my mouth smile. He leaned forward and planted a small kiss on my cheek with his soft, full lips, and his face lingered there for a moment as if he were breathing me in.

"I will summon you this evening, Riala," he sighed.

Quickly, he pulled himself to his feet and I followed his lead. When I stood, my shaky knees made me sway and threatened to buckle. His hand gripped my arm, holding me steady, and a wash of heat filled my face and my heart, already having labored so intensely, began to beat just a little harder before he let me go. Even now, he held such power over me.

As I dressed, I watched him surreptitiously. He seemed lost in thought. I could see the gears in his head turning, and I wished at that moment more than any other, that I could read his thoughts.

When we were fully dressed, I walked with him to the entrance of the chamber. Formally, I bowed my head, and he returned the gesture before slipping his helmet over his head. Vaguely I wondered at how unpleasant it must be to have his sweaty hair compressed beneath it, but he didn't seem to mind.

" **Until later,** " he said, drawing his hood up to cover his head.

"Yes, Kylo Ren. I look forward to it."

" **As do I.** " And then he turned and swept down the hall away from me. I watched him go for a moment before I headed to my own quarters.

* * *

Author's Note:  
Songs I listened to on repeat while writing this  
IxC999 by White Ring  
then  
True Colors by Kite


	26. Fear Leads to Anger

As per his orders, sent by message, I met Kylo Ren in the hangar bay where his command shuttle was being prepared. When I saw him, in public as we were, there was no spark of recognition, no emotional evidence of our shared intimacy. He was all business, and more than a little deliberately aloof. I decided not to let it bother me.

As the command shuttle took off, I found myself gripped with the sudden terror of leaving the base for the first time in my life. The force of the craft's acceleration increasingly pushed me back into my seat, like a great weight was on my chest. I found my hands gripping the arm rests until the color was drained from them, and for an agonizing moment I could do nothing to release them until I felt the pressure recede when we passed outside of the atmosphere and forceshield surrounding the base.

Desperate for a distraction, my mind fixated on Kylo Ren as he stood there, his hand threaded through the stabilizing grip attached to the wall, acting thoroughly bored. My mind, on its own, began to think back to mere hours before, our last meeting, and I automatically created a barrier to keep my thoughts private from him. I felt pleasure in the fact that beneath his many-layered disguise, I had seen him. I saw the way his face looked as he released himself to the visceral pleasures that our sex had provided, and I'd had a further tantalizing glimpse into his true self. If he sensed that I was hiding something from him, he gave no indication, nor did he give me any mind at all.

As soon as I could see the black, diamond-studded vacuum on the other side of the window, my mind no longer needed distraction, and it abandoned the carnal thoughts of Kylo Ren. I was mesmerized by the sight outside of the cockpit. Behind us, the white sphere of Starkiller Base, with its single massive eye, fell away beneath us. I'd never seen it from such a distance. Before I could really comprehend the sight, the pilots wheeled the shuttle around and my attentions turned toward our approach. There, hovering like a broad dagger poised above the snowy planet, a killing strike frozen in time, was the Finalizer. As we drew nearer, the cold grey behemoth completely swallowed the sky. I didn't need to ask about its weapon capabilities. Soon, the textures and features of its shadowed underside became more clear. I could see hundreds, perhaps thousands of guns and turrets peppering its surface. To the two pilots, working in concert with expert speed and efficiency as they guided the ship upward, aligning it with the small forward hangar underneath the nose of the ship, this was routine. To me, it felt as though the ground had been stolen from beneath me. In a way, it had.

We landed, and I exited the shuttle behind Kylo Ren. A pair of officers were waiting to greet us. Kylo Ren spoke to them as he did, and my eyes swept around the small hangar inquisitively. I made some attempts to conceal my curiosity. It felt imperative to affect disinterest, to appear as though I'd done this a thousand times before. I didn't want any to know of my ignorance.

Behind us, I could see that the hangar doors were open to space but for a thin blue membrane. A force field. I was momentarily overcome by a wave of dizziness and nausea as my brain tried to make sense of the three dimensional vacuum; my equilibrium was thrown, for inside the hangar, my feet were firmly planted on metal ground. Outside, however, it seemed as though the concepts of 'up' and 'down' had lost all meaning, tipped as we appeared to be toward the planet's snowy surface from a great height. I swallowed my nausea, and closed my eyes. When I turned around, Kylo Ren was watching me behind his mask. I checked my mental barriers. Solid.

" **I have some official matters to take care of, Riala. I'll summon you in a few hours to begin your training. Be ready for me.** "

I bowed my head respectfully and watched him as he disappeared through the hangar's exit with the officers. Suddenly, I was alone. I enjoyed, and generally preferred, my own company, but here, in an unfamiliar place, I felt suddenly paralyzed. I glanced behind myself toward the hangar bay doors, and with a small measure of relief I saw that they had been closed. The relief was temporary. Anxiety, without any apparent cause, continued its steady creep up my limbs. Numbly, as I watched the hangar's crew perform their various duties, I realized that I had no idea where to go or even how long we were actually staying shipside. Somehow, those questions did not occur to me when my teacher was present to answer them, and now I found myself utterly without guidance.

I made myself move in the direction that he had left, figuring that it was a good start. After a couple of steps, however, I could see out of the corner of my eye that someone in a charcoal grey officer's uniform was walking in my direction. An irrational panic rose in my throat. I had to deliberately control my breathing, to remind myself that I was supposed to be here, that Kylo Ren himself had brought me here. That I was no longer a slave.

"My name is Barclay. Sub-Lieutenant Barclay," the officer, a woman in her late thirties with dark tan skin and facial scarring said to me lightly. I made my face dispassionate, lofty, as I turned to face her.

"Yes? What do you want?" My tone was imperious. My heart was pounding.

"I was instructed to escort you to your quarters. I have been told that this is your first time aboard the Finalizer?" I remembered to breathe.

"Yes, that's right." I glanced around myself, a show of disinterest. "Impressive ship."

"She's the best vessel in the fleet." I could see the pride in her face, and hear it in her voice. "It's also much larger than the old Imperial-class Star Destroyers, so at first sight, she can be a little daunting. Would you care for a tour?"

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to find a small, quiet place to hole up and sink into my studies until it was time for my training. "Just take me to my quarters, Sub-Lieutenant."

"Of course. Please, come with me."

Apparently my quarters were almost entirely on the other end of the Finalizer which, according to Barclay, was just shy of three kilometers in length. Despite my expressed disinterest, a tour was inevitable, as our destination required us to pass through the entirety of the ship anyway. Barclay was unable to contain her enthusiasm for long, and as we passed by numerous sections and subsections, she maintained a constant trickle of commentary. I didn't mind, but after she diverted into the more technical aspects of the propulsion systems, I tuned her out.

After passing through multiple high clearance security doors, and one secure lift, we arrived. My quarters, as well as Kylo Ren's, were the lone features of a sealed section of corridor within the senior officers' deck. In fact, our rooms were across the hall from one another, and I found my eyes lingering on his door before entering my own. Before Barclay could leave, I requested that she arrange to have some kind of potted plants brought to my room. I made it seem as though they were for aesthetic purposes, but she didn't question the request and promised that she would speak to the requisitions officer. With a half-salute, she left me alone. As generally polite as the Sub-Lieutenant had been, I was grateful for the solitude.

My quarters were large, overwhelmingly beige, and the main feature was a long, low window spanning the back wall which offered a view of the topside exterior of the Star Destroyer. The ship's wedge-shaped horizon dominated most of the visible scenery, and seemed to pierce the huge, white sphere of Starkiller Base with its pointed prow. The material of the windows automatically dimmed itself to reduce glare from the reflected sunlight off of the hull.

My quarters were divided into three parts. The main part contained a sitting space, yet more beige and cream, and a small food preparation area. To the right was the bedroom, with a bigger bed than I would ever need, and its own water closet. To the left side of the main room was a small general purpose office, complete with a huge desk and an inbuilt computer terminal. And a very comfortable looking chair. Immediately, I went into this room and closed the door behind me. I felt safer in the smaller space, away from the windows. I had a message waiting for me when I sank into the plush cushion of the chair and activated the console.

'Meet me in tertiary observation deck B in one hour. Dress for sparring,' Kylo Ren wrote. Quickly, I picked the portable data screen from its charging dock next to the terminal and uploaded a map layout of the relevant part of the ship. The observation deck he directed me to was not far from my quarters. And then I thought, belatedly, sparring?

'I thought you said we would be meditating.'

'You have one hour.' Infuriating. I let out my frustration with long, slow sigh and closed the message window, my lack of a response to his last words a deliberate act of defiance, even if he never knew it.

Unwilling to immediately comply with his orders, I remained seated in front of the terminal. I discovered that I had access to the extensive libraries of the Finalizer from here, as well as Kylo Ren's personal data stores. As before, however, I was granted limited security clearance, and I could find nothing of the Knights of Ren, Supreme Leader Snoke, or anything current on the First Order.

Then, I remembered that he had wanted me to learn about the Nightsisters and Mother Talzin. Of course, much had happened since he gave those orders, I recalled with a subtle warmth in my chest, but I knew it wouldn't be outside of the realm of possibility that he might test me. He was capable of anything.

Despite his opinion that I might benefit from learning of the Nightsisters, I found their beliefs in gods and spirits difficult to reconcile with my own lack thereof. Two things did intrigue me about them, however. First, that their sensitivity to the Force was greatly dependent on proximity to their home planet of Dathomir. They believed it contained something called Force Ichor which I could only assume, without further information, was some kind of physical substance that drew force energy to it. It seemed like so much nonsense to me. But then, I couldn't disregard anything as nonsense after my own experienced with that strange, immensely powerful place. Kylo Ren had identified it as the core of Ilum after witnessing it himself. With this in mind, I found that I might comprehend feeling tied, or at least attuned, to something as incomprehensibly ancient and as massive as an entire planet.

The second thing I found most intriguing was, until they were wiped out, the matriarchal Nightsisters had existed for hundreds of generations in the strange middle ground between Light and Dark. Or not. As they believed, there was no dichotomy, therefor no middle ground. What Kylo Ren had referred to as sacrilege, was simply their refusal to submit to the established system. Perhaps it was not the lesson he wanted to impart on me, but I was intrigued. I saved my place for later, and then prepared myself.

According to my instructions, I chose attire appropriate for sparring. Or, at least as close enough as I could from the selection provided in my personal locker. The midrift-baring under armor top and leggings were not as modest as I would have preferred, so I layered a loose, belted tunic over it. I re-braided my long hair quickly and piled it on top of my head, fixing it securely in place with u-pins. For the first time, I wondered if it was really necessary, my hair. I was used to it, but only because slaves were not allowed to shear their hair; regulations stated that it had to continuously grow from the moment of recruitment until death. A strange custom, when one really considered it, but such was the life I'd led for sixteen years. I glanced down at the terminal to check the time while I slipped the last u-pin into place and, with a jolt, I raced out of my quarters, data screen in hand with the map open, and headed toward the appointed location.

* * *

I had just arrived in front of the observation deck's door, when it opened. Ahead of me inside of the room, I saw the black silhouette of Kylo Ren standing against the breathtaking view of the topside exterior of the craft through wall-encompassing picture windows. The hull shined brightly as it reflected the ligh of the sun, and it cast a long shadow that stretched behind him toward me. Beyond the wedge-shaped landscape, Starkiller Base occupied the entire left half of the window. I could see formations of TIE fighters, with their blazing green engines, soaring between the Finalizer and the distant snowy surface. I could see, and hear, that he was wearing his helmet without a hood.

" **You're late,** " his modulated voice oozed.

"Actually," I said quickly, glancing down to the data pad in my hand. "I'm exactly on time."

He turned toward me, the windows behind him dimmed, and the interior lights of the room glowed to only about one-third power. I could see the front of him now. His outer attire was gone, leaving him in his ribbed undershirt, pants, and a belted sleeveless light robe. Relatively dressed-down compared to his usual attire.

I saw one black-gloved hand emerge from behind his back, and suddenly my data screen was tugged from my grasp as surely as it had been grabbed. I made a feeble attempt to catch it, too slow, and I could only watch dumbly as the glowing blue screen of the device spun into a wall and shattered. His hand returned to its place behind his back as if it had never moved. Shocked, I could only stare at him.

" **If you are not early, then you are late,** " he said, simply. I steadied my breathing to alleviate the sharp pressure in my chest. Anger.

"Certainly," I responded evenly, ignoring all of the arguments that suddenly burst into existence in my head. You didn't give a specific time. We just got here. Why are you being such a shit? I re-checked my mental barriers. Solid. "It will not happen again."

" **See that it doesn't.** " I watched him for a moment before I stepped fully into the room. The door closed quietly behind me, and I heard the lock mechanism click into place. " **I see that you guard your thoughts from me. Good.** "

"As you instructed, Kylo Ren."

" **Yes, you have shown yourself to be a quick study. Fortunate. The hour is late, and it is vital for you to learn quickly.** " He took a step toward me and raised a hand for emphasis. I couldn't help but tense reactively. " **Your first lesson: you must always guard your thoughts.** "

My training had begun. "Is it really so important?"

" **Your mind contains knowledge of the First Order that is considered classified. If you fall into enemy hands, and the information you possess ends up aiding their efforts, I am the one who will be penalized. You are my responsibility. Don't give me reason to regret it.** "

I felt my brow crease before I could stop it, betraying my indignation toward his unnecessary threat. I settled my face, made it placid. But it was too late, I knew he'd seen it. I am in control, I thought, My emotions do not control me. After repeating the mantra a couple of times, my irritation began to subside and return to its place simmering low, deep inside of me.

"I will do as you say," I said.

" **Let's see what your beloved Captain has taught you,** " he said with the subtlest shade of mockery. " **Ready yourself.** "

I breathed in, and then out to empty my mind. I recalled Phasma, and her dogged determination to ingrain steadiness in me. I let my breath out slowly, shifted my feet apart so that my center of gravity was balanced evenly between my legs, and fixed my shoulders so that they were straight and set slightly back. I tensed my muscles but kept my feet loose, ready to spring. Once I was in the proper stance, I saw him nod slightly.

Suddenly, a black gloved hand shot forward. I tensed, and then something as solid and as powerful as a battering ram slammed into me. It shredded my meager mental defenses, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor a few feet away with the wind knocked out of me. I looked up at Kylo Ren, shocked, but his hands were resting behind his back once more. He was standing there nonchalantly, as if there had been some other cause behind that impact. I glared daggers at his expressionless black mask before climbing quickly to my feet. I reassumed the balanced stance. I raised my defenses. The simmering anger heated to a slow boil, and I used it to lend strength to my mental barriers.

The power behind his second push made me stagger backwards a few paces, but this time I remained defiantly upright. My mental blocks actually remained partially intact, and the emotions powering it only grew. He nodded appreciatively, and I had to smother the small flutter of pleasure his approval caused in me. I twisted it into spite. My palms began to itch as some of the energy overflow pooled heavily in them.

I saw his arm shift and I braced myself as if I were stepping before an imminent tidal wave. My feet, locked and steady, slid backwards when his power crashed into me. This time, however, I did not lose my balance, nor my contact with the floor. Behind my defenses, my palms burned, and without a second thought, I redirected the excess power forward and struck him with a whip of barbed energy.

I felt his presence falter for the briefest moment, and then I was hit again with the force of a charging bantha. This time, I had a fraction of a second to comprehend that the sound I was hearing was air whistling by my ears. Then my body hit the rear wall. I fell to the floor, stunned.

As soon as I was able, I took inventory; I was uninjured, apparently. the wall was softened somewhat by a thin layer of padding. I climbed unsteadily to my feet, my face already burning with exertion and emotional upheaval.

"How am I supposed to defend against such attacks?" I asked, anger slipping into my tone as I stepped closer to him.

" **You were doing well before you decided to antagonize me.** "

"'Sometimes it is not enough to defend,'" I repeated his words from earlier, exasperated and frustrated. "Sometimes one must attack."

He didn't move for a moment. " **You do learn quickly.** "

"As my teacher commanded," I said, smoothing the sneer before it touched my lips. I assumed my original place standing in front of him, my eyes narrowed with distrust. His teaching methods left much to be desired, I decided. I allowed my mind to stray to back to that shining moment when, in the throes of anger, I had slapped him. As I recalled his expression of shock immediately after, warm pleasure filled me. And then, the warmth subsided as I remembered how easily he had flung me into the rear wall, how little effort it had taken him.

" **Do you know what your mistake was?** " he asked, walking in a slow arc in front of me. I thought back to our first 'lesson.' All I could think about was my recitation, under great duress, of the Sith code. The way that every part of him seemed to want to devour me and fill me at once. I felt flush, and I checked my defenses again. Solid. I shook my head no. " **You were observing with your eyes, Riala. If you allow the Force to guide your senses, I wouldn't have surprised you so easily.** "

"Darksight," I supplied. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

" **Do it now.** "

I searched the blank face, wondered what truths might be hidden behind it. I wondered if I could trust him, but pushed aside such troublesome thoughts and closed my eyes. He seemed to have calmed, and I decided to do the same. Within me, I touched the simmering pool of power. Rapidly, my awareness spread out from me like a ripple. No longer limited by the position of my eyes in my skull, I could sense all that existed within that radius, including the presence standing before me. I could see the power, shot with red, that surrounded him. Suddenly, like a wave, that power swelled, and automatically, I braced myself, bolstered my shields. It rushed against me with as much force as the other pushes, but I was well prepared, and it only succeeded in displacing me backwards a few feet. The wave dissipated and Kylo Ren's power returned to its place hovering frenetically around him. I sighed appreciatively.

" **With enough practice, you should be able to do this with your eyes open,** " I heard him say. I opened my eyes and smiled, pleased with his praise. Mentally, I retracted my earlier judgment. He was actually a pretty effective teacher.

"Where did you learn these things?" I asked, curious and feeling confident enough to voice it.

" **Supreme Leader Snoke has trained me well,** " he replied neutrally. I nodded as I stretched my muscles and limbered up. I would be ready for another assault.

"You must have started young," I commented. A small warning, to be cautious, sounded in the back of my mind. Kylo Ren didn't answer for a moment, and I made an offhand observation as to how stiffly he seemed to be standing now.

" **I did have some training as a child, yes,** " he answered ambiguously. Before I could puzzle over that, he continued. " **Silence your thoughts, Riala. You are inexperienced, and as such your capabilities with the Darksight is limited. I am going to bolster your abilities just enough that you might see what is possible. So that you have something to aspire to.** "

I nodded, my questions momentaruly allayed, eager to experience even a bare taste of such power. I closed my eyes. The room remained behind, a 360 degree imprint of its planes and surfaces and his crimson presence as shown to me by the vision. His Force aura began expanding toward me, and I involuntarily hardened myself, body and mind.

" **Let me in, Riala.** "

"I will not have you reading my thoughts," I answered tersely, my eyes clenched as a spark of panic flared. His power spiked.

" **I have no interest in your thoughts. Just keep them quiet.** " My lip twitched and my panic subsided into aggravation in regards to his callous manner. Reluctantly, I let my barriers go. The second they dropped, tiny motes of red Force energy drifted past and into me, imparting a delicate tingling where they touched, very different from how I usually felt him. " **Now, reach further outward. Do not be guided by your preconceptions.** "

I inhaled slowly, and then released. My sphere of awareness ballooned. It took a moment for my understanding to catch up with what I was experiencing; bright, yet somehow colorless bundles of energy surrounded us on nearly all sides, all but the wall facing the exterior. Some were close, some were further away. All were in motion. There were hundreds, maybe thousands toward the very edges of my perception, and even as I found what I had assumed was the limit, it grew further. Many, many thousands. I heard myself gasp.

"Are those-"

" **The living inhabitants of this ship,** " he finished for me. " **What you are sensing is the Force energy that all living things possess. It is the precious resource that the Jedi sought to hoard even though it is better served as a weapon or a tool for greater power. A waste.** " There was an audible sneer in his deep, velvety voice as he mentioned the Jedi, and it stirred my curiosity.

"You speak as if you have personal experience with them, but you couldn't have been more than a teenager when they were wiped out," I said, mentally trying to piece together the timeline of his life, even as I traced the strange energy blobs of Finalizer Personnel that were oblivious to their observers.

The red mass of his Force aura flared suddenly, and I felt needles pierce my skull.

I was ten years old. I was standing in front of the Overseer, a different Overseer, and I was being reprimanded for being too careless with the black leather dress boots that I was polishing. I opened my mouth to argue, and then there was a crack of sudden pain as my stinging face twisted to the side from the force of the slap. This was accompanied by a crunch as I bit my tongue. I tasted blood.

I was back in the observation deck, my eyes were tightly closed. Belatedly, I raised my defenses and the needles retreated. My eyes snapped open and I cut them like daggers toward him.

"How dare you?" I demanded sharply, my simmering rage rising again. Kylo Ren's back straightened, furthering the height disparity between us.

" **You pry where you have no business. I simply returned the favor.** " I quivered with suppressed rage. My words were careful, but forced.

"It is no secret that you hate the Jedi, Kylo Ren. It just seems like the grudge is somehow personal to you." He said nothing but I sensed that his power coalesced around him. My defenses were holding, so I barreled forward, hoping to bring reason to this nonsense. "Surely all in the First Order have their reasons."

" **My reasons are not yours to question,** " he barked, his shoulders tense. My eyes narrowed. " **Regardless, the Jedi threat is yet present, it's not some imagined antiquated grudge. An outlier still-** " his words choked off. It seemed strangely to me as though he had almost revealed too much. He was right. Already my mind was racing, trying to put everything together. I heard his gloved fists tighten.

"Fine, don't tell me about you. But at least tell me about your mission," I said, trying to remain calm. I had to step carefully if I intended to learn anything of value. I did not like being kept in the dark, and I felt that it was time that he entrust me with the truth. I watched him carefully, observed his body language before I continued. "Thanks to me, you discovered a name. Lor San Tekka. At least tell me who he is. I may be able to further assist you if only you would include me."

" **You are my student, you are not my peer. You will accept what I choose to tell you, and you will keep your mouth shut.** "

The pool of wrath began to bubble and writhe, and I fought to suppress it even as it guided my words. I felt a flash of vengeful delight as I my mind worked out on its own what he didn't want me to know.

"There are still Jedi out there," I said slowly, with dawning realization. Kylo Ren vibrated with barely restrained power, but I could not stop myself. "Lor San Tekka, is one, isn't he? You want to find him. Kill him. Let me help you, please."

Kylo Ren moved suddenly, of more speed than I knew he was capable. He wrenched something from his belt. There was a sound and a blaze of red light. A sharp, resonant thrum which pierced the air as a column of red fire sprouted from the silver baton that I now saw him gripping tightly in his hand. The eruption of the main column was immediately followed by an outward flare of two smaller such beams bisecting at the cross guard. Currently, he wielded his lightsaber with his arm raised as though he would strike me down with it. I shrank away, stumbled backwards.

My mind went blank and time slowed as I looked upon the weapon, helplessly transfixed by its terrifying power. The reflective parts of his helmet's face looked as though they were drenched in blood which seemed to pour forth from the crackling, arcing spike that comprised his lightsaber's main blade. I remembered Hux's words. _His grasp on his emotions is, at best, as unstable as the crystal that powers his saber._ I thought then, with strange objectiveness, that I might die. I straightened my back, squared my shoulders, and glared at him, resigned and defiant.

His chest swelled with a sharp inhalation, and with a bestial growl, he hurled the lightsaber forward with his entire body. It missed me by a wide margin, and I found myself twisting to follow its trajectory past my head and behind me. It struck the wall, blade first, and sank deeply into it. The wall's outer layer of padding smoldered and burned away, showing the metal plating beneath. The metal proceeded to glow hotly around the point of entry. Smoke from the padding rose toward the ceiling as red hot globs of superheated metal sagged and then dripped thickly toward the floor. The lightsaber slowly sank downward under its own weight, carving a jagged gash in the wall as it went. After sinking further a couple of feet, the lightsaber baton deactivated and then handle clattered heavily to the floor. The wall cooled, and the air was heavy with the acrid scent of burning durasteel and plasticrene.

Slowly, stunned, I turned back toward Kylo Ren. He was twitching. I saw him raise a shaky hand and I almost didn't move out of the way in time before the lightsaber's handle hurtled past my head. It came so close that I felt the wind in its wake. He caught it easily.

" **The lesson is over,** " he growled dangerously. I opened my mouth to argue with him, to ask him about his saber, mingled frustration and shock overcoming my common sense, but he spoke first. " **Return to your quarters. Do not leave them until I summon you again.** "

My jaw clenched and my eyes narrowed further. Again, I drew breath to speak. "I just wanted to ask-"

" **If one more word comes out of your mouth other than '** _ **yes**_ **' and '** _ **sir**_ **,' I promise you, I'll tear open your mind with such wrath that you will be left permanently incapable of human speech.** "

My face burned and I quivered with rage. My jaw was so tight that it was beginning to ache. My palms itched with scarcely restrained hate. I breathed, and then I spoke through gritted teeth, as calmly as I was able.

" _Yes, sir._ "

With no further word from him, I swept from the room as quickly as my anger-stiffened legs would allow, fuming silently. As soon as I entered the hallway, a small red astromech maintenance droid exited the lift and headed toward the observation deck. I halted and stepped aside enough to let it pass, and watched it disappear through the doorway behind me.

The door slid shut. Then, on the other side of it, I could hear the muffled sound of frenzied beeping, followed by a sharp crunch. Then all was silent. I headed much more quickly toward the lift, suddenly very interested in putting as much distance between myself and that room as possible.


	27. Almost Amends

Author's Note: I know what you want. But you're not going to get it until I'm good and ready. P feel free to skip over this plotty chapter if you want, I'm just having fun exploring the dynamic between them.

* * *

When I reached my quarters, I immediately went into my bedroom and stripped off my sweaty clothes. It took me a little bit longer to unravel my hair, and I ended up flinging u-pins all over the floor in the process, too shaky to be careful. I wasn't angry anymore, and I wasn't frightened exactly, but my nerves were still frayed from the confrontation.

I closed myself into the shower pod and leaned against the front wall as the water, as cold as I could stand, washed over me. The shock helped clear my mind and distract me momentarily from my conflicted feelings. I waited until the skin on my shoulders and back was nearly burning from contact with the frigid water before I slowly brought the temperature up to more comfortable levels. Absently, I fingered the chrome bar of my necklace, ran my thumb over its smooth surfaces, tilted it and turned it to reflect the light. I watched the glowing spot it projected onto the wall of the shower for a moment until I felt my body return to its normal state of calm.

It was only then that I allowed myself to think about Kylo Ren and the fact that, for a brief moment this evening, I had been utterly sure that I was going to die by his hand. I wondered if Darth Sidious had ever lost his temper and hurled his lightsaber into a wall. Probably not, I thought. It wasn't really his style. I didn't see him even getting to the point where he lost his temper. He would likely have taken care of any minor irritation before it grew into something more vexing. In this way, I supposed that I was fortunate to have the mentor that I did. Still, his last threat bothered me far more than the implied threat of death. Could he really enter a mind and then destroy it from the inside? I had no idea, but I was greatly disturbed by the possibility.

Frankly, I was baffled by his persistence. He forged ahead with my training despite finding himself at odds with me more than once. I had no misconceptions about his personal interest in me, despite his hogwash about my 'drive' or desire for power, or whatever nonsense he'd gone on about in his pre-coital sentimentality. With Supreme Leader Snoke looking over his shoulder, I could gather that he had much to lose if he failed to make something of me, especially after showing such conviction in my potential. I also suspected that part of his determination was self-imposed; Kylo Ren did not strike me as someone who would accept personal weakness and failure easily. Of course, I didn't see him facing many negative consequences, if any, if he _did_ happen to accidentally murder me in a fit of rage.

The water cut off suddenly, interrupting my thoughts, and I realized that I must have been standing there for a full ten minutes. Sub-Lieutenant Barclay had mentioned something about a shower ordinance, but I hadn't paid much attention to it at the time. I used some oils provided and combed my fingers through my long hair, gently working out any tangles and holding it out of the way as the shower pod's dryer function lightly buffeted me with warm air from my shoulders down. Afterward, I stepped out of the water closet and changed into something comfortable. I let my hair hang loosely down my back for once instead of immediately re-braiding it. Again I considered the idea of severing my locks. Surely the Finalizer had a military barber or two somewhere on board. I decided to delay that decision for later.

Physically refreshed, I walked back into the main room, and it was only then that I noticed the small copse of potted plants gathered against the back wall beneath the long window, which, currently dimmed, showed the base from a new angle, in moving orbit as we were. Barclay had fulfilled my request, I thought, smiling as I walked over to the shrubs and looked closely. There were six plants in total, but only one, some kind of conifer, looked as though it might be native to the climate on the base's surface. The woody trunk was roughly barked and the short, upturned branches were covered in scaly fronds, like dusty green crocheted lace. Small clusters of green berries were nestled at the ends of each frond. I lightly squeezed a twig between my fingertips and a moment later inhaled the spicy, piney aroma that was released into the air. This would do.

I settled on the floor between the beige furniture and the vegetation. The only thing I had control over right now was my training, and the better I became at using my abilities, the better prepared I might be against those who would threaten me, including those that were supposed to be my allies. I closed my eyes. Every time I did this, it took less and less time to get into the right state, and almost instantly I sensed the room as it filled in around me. With some great interest, I sensed the plants before me, though my perception of them was alien enough at first to confuse me. They felt... blue. Or green. Or maybe purple. Color, truly, had no meaning in this state, but perhaps for what my preconceptions supplied. Kylo Ren was red, most sensibly, for his Dark Force sensitivity, and these plants looked green on the outside, so when I saw the way the Force flowed through them, the motes of energy felt greenish blue to me.

Tiny points of invisible light slowly cycled through each one starting from the roots, then passing up through the main trunks and stems, and then branched off, dissipating into the air around them. It felt very different from that which I had sensed in the humans aboard the ship, which had felt like beacons, bright and demanding. The energy flowing within the plants were steady, low, and comparatively faint. An analogy I thought of was that if the humans were a melody that was present and difficult to ignore, the plants were background noise; a breeze, or the steady hum of this ship which most often became apparent in silence.

I opened my eyes, chose a plant with small green leaves and soft green stems, and then I closed my eyes again. To me, they all appeared the same when perceived with the Darksight. I found my well. I drew a tendril from it, let it gather behind my eyes and, without opening them, I allowed that trickle of negativity to seep toward the plant I'd chosen. I watched, fascinated, as the particles, like a thin stream of water, poured toward the green fount of energy, mingled with it, and then disrupted it. The plant's life force became erratic, its steady movements almost choked. Green mixed with red and turned brown. After a moment, I severed the flow from myself and opened my eyes, but I could see no difference. I crawled close to it to examine it more carefully. There, starting about halfway up the green, fleshy stem, I detected a slight puckering that hadn't been there before. It looked as though it were starved for nutrients or sunlight. How strange, I thought, as I moved that plant aside and started again with another.

After about an hour of systematically going through all but that coniferous lace-leafed shrub, I was satisfied that I'd learned all I could from this particular action, and began to reach further than the confines of my room. Beneath me, I sensed someone moving about, but I recognized immediately that they were just regular ship personnel. I let my sphere expand, slowly so that it spilled into the hallway outside of my door. I reached just a hair further, and there, just on the edges of my perceivable radius and inside his quarters, was a familiar presence. He had returned, and knowing that he was so close caused such an upwelling of conflicting emotions that it nearly broke my concentration.

Suddenly, I sensed nothing, though it was not of my doing. It was as though he had disappeared. I retracted my Darksight and opened my eyes. I could no longer sense his life force. The bastard was hiding it from me somehow, I realized with great irritation. Either that or he had just unexpectedly died. I knew which was more likely. I wondered if he would ever show me how to mask my presence, but then I doubted he would want to share a secret that he could use against me. He was fond of secrets.

With my focus shattered, my thoughts drifted to the Jedi, and to the information I'd gleaned, and I felt a pang of frustration. I had struck a nerve before with my questions, though I wasn't entirely sure which of my bold presumptions had invoked his anger.

There was someone at my door, then, as alerted by the soft tone. I could otherwise sense nothing, and as such I thought I might know who it was. My pulse began to rise, and I tightened my mental barriers. Panicked, half-formed thoughts bubbled up, and it took me a minute to quash them before I allowed myself to stand to my feet. I paused in front of my door, steadied my breaths, and then directed the security panel to open it.

To my utter lack of surprise, Kylo Ren stood there, bemasked and with arms crossed over his chest. His manner was entirely different from the way it had been before. Gone were all detectable traces of anger, replaced by a studied aloofness. I said nothing, in neither words nor expression. The moment stretched, and he didn't move a muscle, he just watched me.

"Yes?" I asked finally, willing my voice to sound completely disinterested. My eyes involuntarily strayed to his belt where, even now, I could see the hilt of his lightsaber clipped.

" **Lor San Tekka is not a Jedi,** " he said without preamble. My eyes snapped up to his mask with cautious interest. His voice through the vocoder was calm and measured. I assimilated this new information quickly. Then I processed the fact that Kylo Ren had chosen to share it with me. Calmly, I breathed in, and then out. With some trepidation, I spoke.

"Would you like to come in?"

He didn't respond for a moment, but then he moved forward, and I let him pass. I watched him carefully as I closed the door behind me. His black form looked so strange in my beige and white quarters, a stark, hunched shadow in a wilderness of banal earth tones. He seemed to reflect this in subtle uncertainty as he walked further into the main room. For some reason, I suddenly felt very naked with my hair loose. Without drawing attention to myself, I made the decision to go into my bedroom and gather a few U-pins from the floor. I began to twist my locks into a quick utilitarian up-do before wandering back into the main space. He had moved so that he stood in front of the plants. One of them, the first one I'd practiced on, was already looking sickly and had lost a few leaves, I noted with mild interest. He reached out and brushed it lightly with a gloved hand, and a few more detached and fell to the ground around the pot, and then he just stood there, facing the window.

"If not a Jedi, then who _is_ Lor San Tekka?" I asked, finally. When he responded, he didn't move from his place.

" **He's a member of moderately high standing within a Jedi-worshipping cult.** "

"Oh," I said. He turned to look over his shoulder so that the profile of his mask faced me. I wondered that he wore it, even now. Perhaps he felt more secure behind its protection, much the way my veil seemed to provide some comfort when I was around others. My face was bare now, though I was almost considering going to get it just to even the odds.

" **He has something that I, that the First Order and Lord Snoke, have sought for a long time.** "

"A Fragment," I said quietly, remembering what the Bothan said. I projected casualness, but I was watching him very, very closely, my mind on high alert.

" **A piece of a map which will lead us to the last Jedi.** "

My heart began to beat faster. I turned away from him and went to the utility console within the food prep area. I put in a request that the components to make infused herb water be delivered to my room, just so that I had something to do with myself while I swallowed this new information. I carefully planned my words as well as my light, inconsequential tone.

"This lone Jedi is still a threat?" My order was confirmed. A droid would come shortly with it. Perhaps the hot drink would help soothe my parched throat and my nerves. Slowly, I turned to face him again. His back was now to the window and he was watching me.

" **Truly, he is the** **only** **threat. He has the power to rebuild the Jedi order if he is not stopped. The Republic and the Resistance are mere distractions. They seek him as well, but it seems that the coward has hidden himself from everyone, even his allies.** "

"Okay." I acknowledged simply. If that was what he chose to tell me, I would accept it. I would say nothing else. Even as my mind worked to deduce the whole picture. He was somehow connected with this Jedi, I knew. Somehow he had been personally wronged by him. He tilted his head.

" **I'm sure you have questions,** " he said, and then waited.

"Oh yes, many," I said with subtle pertness. I stared at him expectantly, willing him to remember how my earlier questions had sent him into a rage. After a beat, he spoke again.

" **You may ask. I will only answer with what I deem relevant to you.** " I felt that my eyebrow wanted to stray upwards, that my face wanted so badly to reflect my contempt for his arrogance, but I held it in place. This seemed like the closest thing I would receive to an apology for his earlier behavior, and I would have to accept it. For now.

"What did this Jedi do to you?" I couldn't help it, but still I readied myself for some form of retaliation, some kind of rebuke. None came.

" **That is irrelevant. He is, however, largely responsible for the eventual fall of the Empire.** "

"Oh really?" I couldn't feign disinterest any longer. "Does he have a name?"

Kylo Ren paused for a moment, and I could almost tell that he was studying me closely while he considered his answer. " **Luke Skywalker,** " he said finally. I could tell there was a lot of weight in the name. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction of some kind, but I had none to offer. The name meant nothing to me, apart from some vague mention somewhere in the multitudes of data I'd scanned. I shrugged and nodded.

"Okay."

" **Do you know who he is?** " He asked.

"Not really. I tried to read about the Jedi order and the Republic, but admittedly, I found it all so... boring. I much prefer to learn about Emperor Palpatine's golden reign." It was true. I had little interest in the serenity and peace and lack of emotion that the Jedi were so fond of. Inaction was far worse to me than action, even if that action bore negative results. I was very familiar with this concept as often as I found myself facing the consequences of my own impatience.

I heard a sound, almost like a snort, warble from his helmet's modulator, but I couldn't be sure. Part of me wanted to ask him to take off his helmet, but the other part, the one that he'd Force-pushed and sent flying into a wall, kept my mouth shut.

" **It is important to learn the ways of the enemy. Even if it isn't the most exciting form of recreation.** "

"Is that an order?" I asked suddenly with little forethought. Still, I let my justified caution hang in the air between us. He hesitated.

" **We are just talking, Riala,** " he answered. I was surprised by the softness of his voice, but I felt the familiar irritation begin to rise inside of me in reaction to his mollification.

"Sometimes it's hard to tell." My voice had a hard edge to it even though I spoke honestly. Immediately, I corrected it. "You don't seem to be a of a single mind when it comes to your feelings in regards to me."

Kylo Ren looked at turns tense and uncomfortable. An alert by my door made me jump. Grateful for the temporary diffusion of tension, I opened the door, and a little black astromech droid rolled in emitting a short series of beeps and chirps. Little mechanical arms extended upward from their compartments and they held a box large enough that I needed to hold it with both hands. I picked it up and carried it to my food prep area, setting it down on the counter before opening it. Inside were many different small mesh packets of crushed and whole herbs of all kinds, including some that I'd never seen before. The aroma, mingled floral and spicy, sat pleasantly in my nose. I dismissed the little droid, whose mechanical arms retracted into its body, and the little compartments closed. It chirruped and then wheeled out. The door closed behind it.

I busied myself with warming some water and readied a ceramic mug with one of the packets, though my thoughts had not left the man standing in front of the window behind me. Almost unconsciously, I felt myself reaching out with my senses. I knew that he was there, I could sense something, but his power was still hidden. I wondered again if he ever planned to teach me that trick.

" **I've never had a student before,** " he finally answered, his voice matter-of-fact. I didn't turn to face him while I poured the heated water over the herb packet. This one smelled citrusy. " **I am not accustomed to the constant questions and scrutiny.** "

"If I seem inquisitive, perhaps it is from my lifetime of compulsory ignorance. It wasn't so long ago that my only concern, on any given day, was whether or not I would die from some soldier's casual brutality." My words contained no ire. Like his, they were matter-of-fact. I raised the cup to my face and breathed in the scent-laden steam appreciatively. Thus far, we had not spoken of my slavery, which until two months ago, was the only life I knew. I didn't want to belabor the topic, I was just as content to move on from it, but I felt that he needed a minor adjustment to his perceptions.

" **Darth Vader was once a slave,** " he said. His voice was so low that I had to turn and look at him. His arms were crossed over his chest again, and he was looking somewhere around the vicinity of the floor between us.

"I read about this. The Jedi tried to make him one of theirs, but Palpatine liberated him."

" **Sidious saved him from death, took him under his guidance, yes. But Vader was never completely cured of the years of brainwashing at the hands of the Jedi council. In the end, he allowed himself to be corrupted. He betrayed his Master, and died a traitor.** " I could hear the bitterness in his voice and I wondered at it. Mug in hand, I slowly walked back to that part of the room, watching him carefully. I felt like I was on the verge of something huge, and as tantalizing as it was, I had to step carefully.

"Skywalker," I said, piecing it together easily. The mask moved to look at me once more, and I felt both unease and pleasure for being the subject of his attention. I mentally scolded myself for the latter. I was still irritated with him. I would not allow him to know that even now I had to fight the urge to move in close to him. "And you have found no sign of Lor San Tekka?"

" **Our agents have found many claiming to be him, all false leads of course. The business I needed to handle when we first arrived was report of another failure. The man has no shortage of friends, it seems. But still, it is only a matter of time. They all merely delay the inevitable.**

I took a sip from my hot cup as I realized that perhaps his short fuse had not been a random occurrence. Of course, had I known about his disappointment, I might have acted differently. After a moment's reflection, I said with the utmost sincerity, "thank you."

He regarded me for a moment, and then nodded very subtly. " **Perhaps I was too short with you earlier, but you do so love to provoke me, Riala.** " I said nothing, but I felt my face reflected my acceptance of this as fact. I also knew that it went both ways. The difference was that one of us was a twenty year old former slave who had only just started to learn of the Force, and the other was a master of the Dark Side with a good ten years of extra experience under his belt. Only one of us had the upper hand, and it wasn't me.

He moved his hands so that they clasped at rest behind his back, and I was aware suddenly of his gaze. A light prickling on my face told me that my guards had slipped, and I quickly retrieved them, pushing aside my mild irritation. It was almost like he couldn't help himself. Which reminded me.

"Can you show me how to mask my presence?" I asked tentatively. He made a derisive noise.

" **And equip you with knowledge of how to hide from me? I think not.** " I let my scowl slip for a moment despite his almost playful tone. " **Maybe later. Much later. Now, it seems as though your gardening skills could use some improvement.** " He stepped to the side slightly and glanced down at the plants. They were starting to look pretty ragged at this point, and the one that had been my first target was now shriveled and distinctly brown in hue. I hadn't even noticed its gradual transformation, so engrossed had I been in conversation.

"It is interesting," I mused, going to get a better look. I crouched down to touch a small leaf, and it crumbled in my hands, dry and brittle as paper. "They do not possess thoughts or the ability to feel pain, at least as we know it, yet they suffer from my emotional attacks." I found myself wondering that, if they displayed such negative consequences from my hatred, would my joy or pleasure produce the opposite results? I would have to try later, perhaps on the piney shrub I'd been hesitant to strike before. However, I was cognizant of the fact that I was crouching next to Kylo Ren, and that the already tall man was now towering above me. Self consciously, I stood up again and faced him. He hadn't moved, and now we were standing fairly close.

" **It's been a long day,** " he said. His voice was audibly weary, but also suddenly very strangely intimate, as if he had just realized that we were alone in my quarters. Its timbre was enough to make me feel slightly flush. I wrote it off as a reaction to the hot drink I still held in my hand, unwilling to entertain other thoughts which might compromise my composure. " **Tomorrow, after first meal, we begin again. Be sure that you are rested and prepared.** "

"Yes, Kylo Ren," I answered with a small nod. He stood there for a moment longer, looking at me, but then he walked off and through my door. It closed behind him and I let out a small breath. I should have been exhausted, but now I was only feeling a different sort of agitation. With another sigh, this one of resignation, I downed the rest of my boiled herbs, now merely warm, and disappeared into my bedroom to take care of the lingering tension that he'd provoked in me. As I touched myself beneath the covers, I closed my eyes. Without meaning to, the Darksight immediately filled in my surroundings, and I allowed it to spread outward and encompass the corridor on the other side of my bedroom wall. A faint red presence was just out of reach within the quarters across the hall. He was no longer concealing himself from me, but I didn't want to push it. I let my imagination fill in the blanks and pretended that he was watching me, making sure that I obeyed his orders to handle my distractions as I fulfilled those orders to completion. After that, I drifted easily to sleep.


	28. Of Passion and Peace

I made sure to leave my quarters early. He never gave me a time, aside from the vague 'after first meal' instruction, but I knew that the way that the various shifts on the Finalizer were arranged, the first meal of the first shift began at 0900h. I arrived at the tertiary observation deck at 08:45h after feeding myself something instant, smug that I had outsmarted him. The door opened. He didn't even wait for me to get through before his Force slammed into me. The power behind his push sent me to the floor hard, and I skidded back into the hallway for a couple of yards. Obviously I'd overestimated my cleverness.

As I lurched to my feet, I used my frustration to aid me in gathering the Force around my front, a barrier in case he decided to do it again. I entered cautiously. He was facing me, his back toward the partially dimmed window, his arms crossed over his chest casually. Outside, a couple of squadrons of TIE fighters performed neck-breaking maneuvers in formation as they diminished in size toward the base's surface. Still groggy, I found myself utterly distracted by their display for a moment.

"Good morning," I offered without enthusiasm. He nodded slightly.

" **I told you to always be prepared. One of these times, I'm not going to hold back,** " he said, but his tone was not angry. He was wearing his helmet again, despite the fact that we were the only two present on this level. I shrugged it off a just another idiosyncrasy about the man.

"That was holding back?" I asked, gingerly cradling the tender place on my rear where I had landed. Of course, I was sure that he could have done worse, but I was definitely going to have some bruising. "What else can you do?"

" **Kinetic manipulation through the force has many applications,** " he said conversationally. " **Vader himself was fond of strangulation. For both discipline and execution.** " That grabbed my attention.

"Can _you_ do that?"

" **It takes very little effort to crush a throat,** " he said ambiguously, though his answer was not lost on me. I swallowed reflexively as I wondered how many throats he'd crushed. He regarded me for a moment. " **With the right intention, a push can easily become a pull. Gentle pressure can become deadly. Ready yourself, I will demonstrate.** "

After speaking about crushing throats and such, I couldn't help but feel nervous. Still, I assumed one of the stances Captain Phasma had taught me. I braced my mental barriers and directed my energies toward protecting my front. I nodded and watched Kylo Ren carefully. His gloved hand reached toward me, fingers curling in what I could only describe as an aggressive come-hither gesture. Suddenly, I was weightless, and then I was moving. My toes dragged along the ground as I seemed to fall toward his gesturing hand. I had to admit to myself that something about it was exhilarating, especially in contrast to the jarring sensation of being pushed. He slowed and stopped the flow of power drawing me toward him when I was a couple of feet away, and then he released. I settled on my feet. The feeling of weightlessness was slower to fade. Even though I was standing still, my middle felt as though it were doing flips.

"My barrier was up. How do I protect myself from something like that?" I asked, intensely curious. The experience hadn't been entirely unpleasant, and perhaps even a little enjoyable. It had been somewhat frightening, too. He'd pulled me to him with no more than his mind as if I weighed nothing.

" **The mechanism is the same as when you protect your thoughts, or brace against a push. Those barriers are localized, directional. To resist being pulled, the barrier must be encompassing... it would be easier to just show you.** " I stepped back toward the middle of the room and watched him carefully, but he did nothing for a moment, and I realized that he was waiting for something. After a moment, he said, " **let the Force show you what your eyes will not. Don't make me tell you again.** "

Chagrined, I closed my eyes and reached out with my senses. There he was, instantly, appearing like a retinal burn, bright red against the back of my eyelids. I could see his long limbs and his center, and I could see the particulate Force energy tightening around him, being pulled from the air. I saw the cloud of power around him swell, red motes moving chaotically within. And then the motes organized, poured forth in a column that stretched toward me. Crude digits, a two-pronged claw, split open at the end, impacted my middle, encircled me, and then retracted, taking me with it. I think I gasped, startled by the appearance of it, and my eyes opened.

I could see his body in black, still overlaid with the red motes of Force, approaching me with such speed that I thought I might crash into him. However, as before, the movement slowed, stopped, and he released me. The Sight faded. My face was flush, and I felt a laugh bubble up and threaten to escape my breathless mouth. A memory from long ago echoed in the back of my mind. Laughter as I moved forward through the air, weightless, before moving backwards. The pressure of a pair of large hands on my back sent me flying forward again on the swing. I shook my head to dispel the memory.

" **Enjoying yourself?** " he asked, his voice deadpan as he lowered his arm.

"I'm just... no. Not at all," I stuttered, sobering instantly as I lied. My mental barriers were still in place. "Just surprised, is all." Without having access to my thoughts and that memory fragment, he seemed to accept this.

" **Again, Riala. This time, attempt to resist me,** " he ordered. I closed my eyes again, stepped back, tried to focus. He gave me an extra moment to compose myself and draw the Force toward me. I envisioned myself being surrounded by it, not just my mind but every part of me, clad in a glowing shell, or perhaps even armor.

From the main body of his energy, there was a surge and the limb stretched toward me, clawed. It grabbed my ankle this time, surprising me. I was swept off of my feet and landed on the floor. The impact sent a jolt of pain through me as my weight landed on the same sore spot as before. I began sliding toward him. Focus, my mind screamed at me. I concentrated on my leg, and I tried to do as he said. Flex, I ordered. The barrier expanded, the red claw slipped, and then I was suddenly free, a couple of yards to spare between us. My eyes snapped open and I scrambled to my feet watching him, rubbing my sore buttocks with some indignation. Something about the set of his shoulders and the way he held his head told me that he was enjoying this as well, perhaps a little too much.

" **I'm impressed that you managed it so quickly. Of course, I** _ **am**_ **going easy on you,** " he said with just the barest hint of mockery in his otherwise neutral tone. Involuntarily, my eyes flickered toward the far wall and the dark wound of melted metal and singed padding that was still there. I remembered the astromech droid that had come afterward to repair it. With awful clarity, I realized that despite his fairly light tone, he spoke truth. The same Force that he was using to pull me with relative gentleness toward him could also crush the durasteel-plated body of that droid. He was powerful, yes, but also incredibly precise. A small thrill of fear expanded from my chest. I readied myself.

He did it again, reaching for an arm. This time, he only managed to pull me toward him a couple of feet before I was able to throw him off. I was beginning to feel more confident as I got the hang of it, and after his grudging praise, I let my guard slip. Without the Sight, I was unprepared for the full body hold he used on me. I suddenly found myself frozen in place. Physically, I fought to resist, muscles straining, but I could only grimace and stare at him as I tried, and failed, to struggle free.

" **Come on, Riala,** " he growled. I watched the clawed hand he held before him tighten, and suddenly the pressure surrounding me increased. My ears popped. I found it hard to breathe. I started to panic, thinking he might crush me to death right there, but I fought to stay above the animal instinct to flee. I had to trust my Master and his intentions. I closed my eyes, one of the few muscles I could control. I pulled from my power, clothed myself in it, made it harden, and then expand. His hold on me was strong. I could see Kylo Ren's Force energy almost as a solid mass around me, but as I willed my barriers to grow, I saw the red fog around me start to stretch. The pressure around me lightened by the slightest increment, and to my utter shock, I found that I'd gained some freedom of movement.

My arm was free. Elated, I grasped at the well of simmering heat in my belly and hurled a bolt toward him. Behind my closed eyes, I saw it strike the center of his mass and disperse within it. The link between himself and me was severed, the fog shredded and dispersed. I was free. I opened my eyes and immediately drew my barriers back to myself. I was breathing hard, my body shaking from the strain.

I grinned at him triumphantly, but my Master was not paying attention. His chest was moving with heavy breath. As far as I could tell, he looked... unraveled. It was only at that moment that I reflected on the heat from whence my strike had come. It was not wrath as I had assumed, but a more provocative sort of emotion. Oops.

"Sorry," I said, masking my satisfaction behind sheepishness. "It was an accident."

" **S** **urely you know better by now,** " he said, his voice husky and just slightly irritated. My chest burned as I anticipated his imminent anger. " **You know the effect it has on me, I find it difficult to believe that it was entirely unintentional.** " There was no anger in his voice. He was just... flustered, frustrated. I was surprised by his patience. It was in such great contrast to his anger.

"Truly I didn't mean to. All the same, I suspect it wouldn't be so effective against someone who doesn't make it a habit to deny themselves," I said cautiously. I was starting to feel a little bit warm all over as my mind worked toward selfish ends. My eyes roamed down his clothed body appreciatively. He looked at me, and I felt my heart start to beat a little bit faster.

" **Perhaps not,** " he said slowly.

"Maybe," I said, a sly smile starting to spread on my face, "it would be best if we took care of some things before continuing. It might help both of us."

He crossed his arms over his chest, and started thrumming his fingers against his bicep. I knew, based on the small, nervous movement, that he was thinking about it. Perhaps, like me, he was remembering the dark chamber on Starkiller. I walked over to him and gently rested my hand on top of his, gripped it and stilled his fidgeting.

"I'm serious. Why not? Are there rules against it?"

" **No, not as such,** " he answered as his mask tilted down to look at our hands. " **But attachment can become weakness.** "

I looked up at him so that he would see the wickedness in my eyes. "It's just sex, Kylo Ren. It doesn't need to be anything more." I bit my lip as I thought about kissing him. "Honestly, that's enough for me. I know you enjoyed it."

" **Yes** ," he said, his warped voice deep and quiet. He uncrossed his arms and gently brought a black gloved hand to my cheek. I moved to meet it, and nuzzled it, appreciating the feel of the warm, smooth leather against my skin. He drew a shuddering breath.

"I want to kiss you," I said, my eyes roaming the features on the face before me. He didn't answer for a moment.

" **You do not get to set the terms this time,** " he said neutrally. I was taken aback for a moment, unsure of his meaning. And then I remembered. The last time, I forced him to kiss me after he had expressed hesitation. He could have resisted me then, paralyzed me, but he didn't. I could see that that was not the point.

"Oh," I said voicelessly. His helmet face tilted imperiously.

" **Go to the window and face it, Riala."**

My throat worked as I tried to sort out the tight feeling in it. It was no Force choke, merely my own nervousness which constricted it. I didn't immediately know what was happening. Was he truly not interested? Or was this some method of staying detached? I was unsure, and didn't move to obey him. He moved in close, then cupped my face in his hands, stole my breath. My heart was pounding suddenly, and heat began to gather between my legs as he looked at me from behind the shadows of his helmet face. " **Do as I say.** "

I nodded, though I was reluctant to move away from his warm touch. I turned and walked past him to the observation window. Outside, it appeared as though the distant TIE fighter squadrons were now going through combat exercises. Tiny green dots wheeled and veered, breaking formation and then rejoining like some luminous animals in flight. The white outer curve of Starkiller Base was in the far right side of the window, and the distant sun was in full view. The UV tinting was strong enough for me to look directly at it without discomfort, and I was doing so when two hands snaked around my hips and jerked me backwards into a firm, warm body. A thrill coursed through me and my breath caught in my throat.

" **Remove your clothing,** " he rumbled in my ear, so close suddenly, sending a shiver down my back. I was immediately brought to that first time with Hux. I had said the same to him. There was something compelling about being told what to do in this context. At the same time, I'd felt some manner of contempt for the man at the time, so the words themselves caused a twang of unease. I heard no contempt in Kylo Ren's tone, merely authority.

" **Unless you've changed your mind** ," he said then, the hands on my hips gripping me a little bit harder. His words bore an unspoken order, but his tone was soft.

I began to remove the outer layer, the loose, belted tunic, and he stepped away to allow me. I untied the belt, slipped the top down over my shoulders, and let it drop to the floor. My mid section was bare, and I felt as though my exposed skin burned with the weight of his eyes behind me. I felt the hands on me again, the warm, smooth leather sent shivers through me which echoed in between my legs, and when he pressed his front into my back, the hard edge to his broad leather belt dug into my skin. I leaned to meet it, bringing my hands behind me to touch and hold his hips and thighs. I could feel his muscle beneath the fabric, and I could also feel the first signs of his erection pressing into my lower back. At the moment, I was blind to the magnificent sights outside the window, all I could think about was him.

His hands snaked around to my belly then; one slipped upward, probing fingertips sliding underneath the fabric of my under armor top, grabbed a breast. Heat washed through me and I unintentionally bucked backwards, pressing my ass into him. I felt his bulge grow firmer, and a line of fire traced itself straight through my clit to my cunt as I instantly imagined him inside of me. The hand on my breast began to knead it gently, and then more firmly, the hand on my belly clawed, fingers digging into soft skin, and I squirmed.

His hands disappeared for a moment, though his body was still pressed to mine, and I made a small petulant noise in my throat. But then I heard the soft 'schick' of his helmet disengaging, and felt his body move and heard the heavy sound of it being placed on the floor before the hands returned to me. I sighed appreciatively as his warm, strong arms wrapped around me, crushed me to him. I turned my head to look at him, wanting nothing more than to see his face, kiss his lips. But then I felt his hot breath on the skin of my neck, his thick, soft hair tickling me, just before I felt his open mouth against my flesh, hot and moist, and then the sharp press of teeth. I made another noise, like a whimper as conflicting arousal and pain coursed through me before he let me go.

His hand gripped my breast again, and now his other hand was behind me, working at something. I felt his belt fall away, heard the rustling of fabric, and then I felt his bare skin against my back. I began to shiver with excitement. I was already wet. I could feel the telltale tickle between my labia, along with the rush of blood. Gently he tugged at my top and I answered by raising my hands over my head. He pulled the fabric up and off, leaving me topless, and then both of his large hands cupped my breasts. I put my hands atop his, gripped them, squeezed them, to make him tighten his hold on my bare flesh. I craved the urgency, and I got it.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he whispered coarsely. "Unless you want to stop me."

I said nothing, but I bit my lower lip and begin to breathe a little harder, incensed by his language and the inarguable statement of his words. When I didn't answer, his hands dropped to the waistband of my leggings and he pulled it down suddenly, over my hips and past the swell of my buttocks. One of them disappeared and I heard him unfasten the front of his pants. With his other hand, he pushed me between my shoulder blades, pressing me against the window, forcing my face to turn to the side, cheek and palms against the cool duraglass surface The cold against my skin and my nipples made me gasp. A strange thrill of fear coursed through me, and I began to shake. Though the only thing holding me there was his hand against my back, I found myself unable, or unwilling, to move.

His hand dragged down my back, generating a trail of ripples on my spine as it went. They spread throughout me, reflected off of one another and compounded before they focalized on my throbbing groin. I arched my back so that I could press myself against his front further. My breath hitched when I felt his hands grip my ass. Almost reflexively, my thighs parted, but they were restricted by the leggings which were bunched above my knees. One of his hands slid around to my front and down to my groin. Smooth leather fingers parted my labia and everything clenched.

"Touch yourself," he ordered. My breath made a cloud on the glass in front of my mouth as I moved, jerkily, to comply. I slid my palm down the glass, a foggy cloud leaving a trail behind it. I snaked my fingers down and then, with practiced care, I began to lightly rub the base of my clit through the clitoral hood. I was so wet. Heat flared and writhed in my belly as I did what he'd commanded. Outside, a squadron of three TIE fighters passed over the top of the Finalizer, so close, and I realized that if the pilots were to look through the enhanced vision of their ships' clearshielding as they flew past, they might actually be able to see us. A hot wave expanded from my chest as I realized that apart from the UV tinting, there was nothing obscuring me from onlookers. Of course, the only thing directly on the other side of the glass was empty space, the upper hull stretching out below and in front of us, and the fighters were moving very fast, but still the thought excited me.

Suddenly, I felt the warm, moist tip of his cock nudge the upper cleft of my ass. In this position, our height disparities were going to make this complicated. But as if the thought occurred to him at the same time, he moved his hand from my labia, he gripped my hip and firmly pulled it back toward him. I answered by arching my back against him, angling my hips just so. He guided his cock with his other hand, slid it between my slick labia, and then, with the slightest impatient movement of my pelvis, I pushed myself onto him, eliciting a sharp gasp from both of us. His girth entered me easily, as aroused as I was, but even so, the fit was deliciously tight. He moved both of his hands to my hips now, held me in place as he began to move further into me, as far as he could go. Belatedly, I started stroking myself again, and the pressure in my spine began to build, compounded with the sensation of his rock hard cock nudging against the front wall of my vagina.

He uttered a frustrated grunt and I could see that he was still too tall. His hands slid around to the swell beneath my buttocks and he lifted me. My feet stretched so that my toes touched the ground, straining to hold myself aloft for him. I wondered at his strength just before he withdrew his cock and then slammed it upward into me, jarring my entire body. Scalding heat explode from the point if impact deep within me, and the force of it flattened my cheek against the chilly window. I moved my fingers faster around my clit, thrumming against it lightly. With a rough, shuddering breath, he pulled out partially and then thrust back up. The artificial gravity of the ship pulled me me down against his movements so that he impaled me with excruciating bluntness. I moaned, unable to hold back as every nerve in my body erupted in a flash of tingling warmth, and then another as his hips flexed forward and upward, again and again.

There was something different this time, I had the faint presence of mind to notice. The ecstasy of our fucking was sweet agony, but there was no encroaching ocean of fire, no vastly powerful center of Force energy pulling me down into it. In a way, I found that fact only intensified the sensations rolling through me. It meant that I didn't have to hold back, or worry about him seeing that place again. It was just he and I, taking pleasure in one another, the heat between our bare skin the only fiery center I desired, the ache building my belly and my throbbing clit the only sea which I wished to drown in.

Kylo Ren's breaths were coming in fast gasps now, and I felt his bare, sweaty chest lean forward against my bare back, felt his muscles contract and flex with every thrust as I tried to stay on my toes, jarred off balance every time he drove forecfully into my clenching cunt. Each wave of mingled pain and pleasure washed over me, eclipsed my vision in flashes of white fire, and in between, I watched the oblivious TIE pilots soaring and weaving distantly, an unknowing audience to our carnal union.

The pressure climbed, spurred onward by his solid intrusion and my own ministrations, and suddenly, every muscle in my abdomen clenched tightly, an explosion of red heat behind my eyes rippled outward and rolled across my body and I cried out against the window. But still he kept going, his movements more frenzied as the muscles of my cunt shuddered and convulsed around him with each wave of my orgasm, each additional thrust pierced me with further spikes of fire. My cries became choked sobs, as even though I thought I'd reached the crest, I yet found the sensations mounting ever higher. His fingers dug into my hips with bruising strength, and I wanted more. I needed the pain to offset the unbearable pleasure.

Suddenly, he pulled out, and my knees almost buckled before he turned me around to face him. He lifted me by my ass and I wrapped my legs around him, helpless as he squeezed me between the window and himself, the movements of his hips jerking me and manipulating me like a puppet under his control. The position only granted him the leverage to pound me more ferociously. I watched his face hungrily, pale and covered in sweat. The intensity in his eyes scared the shit out of me even as it made the heat spike in my chest and burn hotter.

The pleasure, momentarily interrupted by his adjustment, began to mount again. He held me with one hand, and I locked him against me with my ankles crossed around his back. His other hand moved to cup my cheek, hold my face so that our eyes had to meet. Without breaking contact, I turned my face to the side slightly and grabbed his thumb, still in his glove, between my teeth. I rolled my tongue around it, savored the taste of cured animal hide, faintly salty from the sweat on my own skin, and he grimaced, cheeks puffing with his labored breaths.

Time froze for a second as my body, blinded by the sweet agony reached its apex, and then time caught up with rapid alacrity as, for the second time, the torment and the ecstasy consumed my world in white hot waves of fire. I was vaguely aware of his prolonged groan as he released into me, the clenching of my cunt and the regularly spaced throbs of his ejaculating cock alternated in beautiful concert. His hands dug into my soft skin, but I barely felt it. Together, as our orgasms receded, we both slowly sank to the floor, my damp skin squeaking against the glass window as I slid down it.

His knees folded beneath us, and I straddled him. The hand on my face gripped me, pulled me close, and finally I was rewarded with the sweet taste of his mouth, chill from the force of his heavy breathing, which now buffeted my face through his nose. I threaded my fingers through his thick, dark hair, moist with perspiration and held him there for a long moment, rested my other hand on his chest where I could feel his heart pounding. We broke our kiss, our eyes locked. Then my eyes strayed to a dark mark on his shoulder. Teeth marks. My teeth marks, from the last time. Numbly, I raised a hand to my neck where he'd bit me and found the skin still tender.

He kissed me again before, slowly, carefully, he helped slide me off of him. His softening cock slipped out, and I felt his warm fluid start to seep out of me. I collapsed next to him, my back braced against the wall, a weary smile spreading across my face as I regained my breath. He was leaning back, resting his weight on his arms, seemingly unconcerned by the come on him. He was panting as well, and while he didn't smile, I could see it in his eyes.

For a few minutes, we both sat there together and just breathed. He ran his gloved fingers through his hair and swept it backwards loosing droplets of sweat and uncovering one large ear. I couldn't help it, I smiled. His features, so average to me when I first saw them, so unremarkable, were growing on me. There was something appealingly boyish about them, even though he was older than me. Seeing him unclothed provided a nice balance between the imposing figure he cut with the helmet on and in his full regalia. Right now, he was just a shirtless, sweaty man. I felt a small thrill at the fact that I had been allowed to see both.

"I need a shower," I sighed.

"Me too," he said, his voice thick. Our eyes met again and, as if we shared our thoughts, we both began to hastily gather our clothes. He stood to his feet, and after taking my hand in his and easily hefting me to a standing position, we clothed ourselves. He grabbed his helmet and slipped it over his head. With a hand lightly resting on my lower back we walked with haste out of the observation room. He, we walked into the lift and dropped his hand before we stepped out into the common hallway. I knew that I looked like a mess, and it wasn't until he stepped in front of me that I realized that his belt was on backwards.

We avoided looking at any other personnel as we made our way to the senior officer's deck together, and to the section of hallway where our quarters were. I turned to enter mine, but he grabbed my hand and jerked me into his. I barely had time to look around before he pulled me into his sleeping room and then his refresher. It was much larger than mine and the shower, I noticed with dawning realization, was large enough to fit two people. Quickly, we stripped each other of our sweaty, soiled clothing and, after tapping the button with a bare fist, we stepped naked into the hot spray together.

I'd never seen him completely naked, and as the water poured down his body, I found myself starting to become aroused again. He was beautiful. Where Hux had been lean and sinewy, Kylo Ren was denser and more cut. Gangly, well-muscled legs were covered in a thin layer of dark hair, and his cock, soft but already showing signs of renewed vigor, was nestled in a patch of dark pubic hair. I didn't even care that he could have benefitted from a trim. Everything about his body was electrifying to me, and I felt myself move to press against him almost against my will. He seemed to have the same idea. Gathering some wash cream from the dispenser in the wall of the shower, he slid slippery hands down my back.

"Your hair," he said simply. I'd forgotten. I watched him rub the soapy lather around his own body while I impatiently pulled out each U-pin from its place, and slowly, my twisted tresses fell loosely down my back. I opened the shower door a crack and tossed them out before closing it again. Now my hair, dampened by the spray of water, hung heavily against my skin like a curtain. I heard him sigh appreciatively.

"I'm going to cut it," I said matter-of-factly, watching his expression. His eyes left my face and roamed down my body, and a hand, slippery with lather, slid down my shoulder and arm.

"Not all of it, I hope," he said, slipping his hand between my side and my arm, drawing it up the side of my ribs and over a breast, I shivered pleasantly despite the warmth of the water. "It's nice to have something to hold onto."

"I know what you mean," I said as I scooped some shower crème into my own hands and began to run them over his broad, strong shoulders and around the back of his neck before combing them through his hair at the roots. He closed his eyes in contentment. Then I tightened my fist, gripping his hair in my hands and his eyes snapped open. He used his body to push me back against the wall of the shower, and I felt his cock, hard again, bump into my belly. My cunt, still a little sore, clenched. I bit my lower lip, but then his mouth crushed against mine, and I opened to him as he battered me with his demanding tongue.

Water and soap washed down our joined bodies and around where our fronts were pressed. He was digging his soapy fingers into my sides just short of painfully, and I reached between us and gripped his cock. He shuddered and pulled away slightly, and then I guided him into me. Without preamble, he started to fuck me again, this time moving slowly. Each movement against me pressed me against the wall, and I grabbed onto its smooth surface with a splayed hand, trying to choke my vocalizations.

He buried his face between my shoulder and neck as his hands slid over my wet skin frictionlessly. Hard fingertips left small bruises, like kisses, everywhere he grabbed me. His hips flexed and he penetrated me, and pleasure roiled within me. I wasn't going to come this time, but I didn't care, all I cared was that he didn't stop. I never wanted him to stop. My fingers curled and after a sharp thrust, my nails dug into his skin sharply. He only groaned and moved faster. I raked my hands down his back, but he only seemed to enjoy the pain, it only seemed to excite him. A soft 'oh' escaped my lips with every thrust, and despite myself I felt the pressure growing inside of me again, sharp and unyielding.

"Fuck," I breathed, in partial disbelief as another shuddering wave passed over me. Despite his apparent lack of experience, my body was reacting to him unaided, still enlivened by the last two times.

Kylo Ren pulled away, his dark eyes burning beneath his dark, tense brows as they looked into mine, and it was almost as if he possessed some power in them; it was not the Force, it was only him, and it unnerved the hell out of me even as it thrilled me. He didn't break that line between us, and while the ecstasy of release encroached, I struggled to keep my eyes open, to keep them on his, my vision jarred every time he pushed himself into me, gasping for breath. One of his large hands slipped between us, clutched a breast, pinched a nipple, shocking me, and then suddenly the tension burst like a dam and I came, not once breaking our matched stares. He grimaced darkly, his hand tightened, further intensifying the waves of clenching pleasure that crested through me. He climaxed shortly after me and only then did his eyes close, his face tilted upward, the running water washing through his hair as his hips convulsed helplessly, emptying into me.

He leaned in and kissed me thirstily before he pulled his softening cock out of me gingerly. He ran slick hands down my body and turned me so that I was directly beneath the showerhead. I let it wash over me,and wash the ejaculate down the drain as it trickled from between my legs. I had to lean against the wall to keep my balance, my legs were shaking so badly. I closed my eyes. I couldn't find the words to speak. But then I felt him lean his forehead against mine and a different kind of warmth expanded sharply inside of my chest. I had to breathe in the steamy air deeply to overcome the curious ache there, even as I felt a strong aversion to analyzing it too closely.

Kylo Ren maneuvered us so that he could rinse the last traces of soap from his body before he cut off the water and activated the dryer. I held my hair out of the way to prevent it from tangling as the warm air poured around us. He seemed to be unable to stop touching me, a light finger traced along my arm, a careless hand lighting on my bare hip, as the air dried us. After it was done, he stepped out of the shower and I followed, combing oil through my long hair as I wrung it out.

Naked, he left the refresher and wandered into the main space of his quarters, mostly dark but for some dim supplementary lighting around its edges, and I walked after him, feeling hungry and very lethargic. On the opposite side of the main room, where my small office would have been, was a door, closed and locked. My eyes lingered on it for a moment while the white body of my teacher walked to the food prep area. He busied himself with something.

"You want a drink?" he asked me without looking. I tore my eyes away from that door and drew them luxuriously down his firm back, red lines stark against his pale skin where I had clawed him, and then to his small, round ass. There was something so strange about seeing him in this way. So normal.

"Sure. I could use some hotcaff," I answered as I continued to sort out my hair. My eyes flickered back to that door. "I'm a little... drained," I said with a smirk threatening the corners of my mouth even as I couldn't tear my eyes away. Something about that room, and the fact that it was locked had arrested my attention.

"As am I," he said with the smallest hint of humor in his deep voice. I heard liquid pouring and I looked at him when he turned to face me. Now my eyes devoured his front, lingered on his muscled arms, chest, stomach, and that tantalizing line between his lower abdomen and his hip muscles, a V that drew the eye straight to his limp cock. "If you don't mind, perhaps we should continue training tomorrow."

I was exhausted, but even so, I couldn't help but feel a small pang of disappointment as he walked easily toward me and handed me a steaming mug. I outwardly appreciated the scent with a deep breath even as that same breath was meant to lighten the ache in my chest. As before, I didn't want to investigate its source.

"If that's what you wish." I kept my words careful, respectful as I lowered my eyes to his firm chest. I could see him watching me as he took a drink.

"There are other matters I should oversee. I think it would benefit you if you attended with me and observed."

My downcast gaze flew to his face, searching its long features for any sign of jest. His eyes glittered curiously, but I saw no malice there. I stifled my giddiness. "Yes, Kylo Ren."

"You should probably return to your quarters and get dressed. Wear your black uniform. Perhaps your veil as well. The austerity it lends your face is quite... stunning."

My cheeks burned at his compliment. I nodded eagerly, trying to quell the excitement which trembled inside of me, and then moved toward his door.

"Riala, you're naked." Oh. Of course I was. "Finish first, there's no rush."

I didn't understand why, but I found it a little bit hard to breathe. I didn't show it. He moved toward his sitting area, and I noted with some interest that where my quarters were beige and tan, his were almost exclusively black. I couldn't say that I was surprised. Easily, he settled his long body onto a couch facing the back wall. Where mine featured a view of the exterior of the ship, his had a wall of displays which flared to life as he input a command into the small console built into the arm of his couch. I reclined into a comfortable chair facing the locked door across the room, draped with a plush black blanket that felt so pleasant against my bare skin.

I pulled my long tresses around one side and let it hang down my front. I didn't miss how his face turned toward me to look at it. He liked long hair, I thought with some bemusement. I was pretty sure that he didn't think of it as a status symbol for slavery as I did. Still, perhaps when I did eventually cut it, I wouldn't remove all of it, even if the thought of having shortly shorn hair was rather appealing. We would see.

As Kylo Ren scanned the monitors, one of which featured the First Order newscast, he drank his coffee lazily. Again, I was struck by the incredible normality of what we were doing. Two people, naked after sex, enjoying hotcaff and sitting in companionable silence together. It was bizarre, especially after the argument we'd had the day before. How many others had enjoyed such privilege? I could safely assume that none aside from myself had. My eyes strayed back to that locked door despite myself as if drawn to it. I knew better than to ask. If it was locked, it was off limits.

We finished our hotcaff and I left his quarters after quickly throwing on my dirty clothes. I walked across the hall, glancing surreptitiously to either side as I went. It was empty as always, but still, I assumed that there were some kind of surveillance monitors present somewhere, for security reasons. I didn't know what any who saw might think, if anything.

In my quarters, I disrobed again, and carefully braided my hair into a more formal style before dressing as he'd instructed. Kylo Ren collected me after a short time, and together we walked toward the lift which would take us to the Finalizer's command bridge. As if through some unspoken agreement, we stood close enough beside one another inside the lift that our arms almost brushed. Inside, I was warm and happy. I couldn't allow myself to think about it, I needed to focus on learning whatever I could through observation. Still... Hux's words, unwelcome and unbidden, bubbled into my mind. _He will hurt you in ways that cannot be seen._ I shoved them aside with some minor irritation as we stepped out of the lift together and headed down the corridor to the bridge.


	29. Nightmares and Creature Comforts

Author's Note: So, as you might have noticed, it was a little longer between updates this time. Since I began this story almost two months ago, much has changed. I have gotten a great new job (where, coincidentally, I am writing), and I am taking language courses. As such, I have had less time to sit down and just write for hours like I once did. However, my thoughts have not left this story, and I intend to finish what I started. I can't promise daily updates, but I can promise updates as often as I can make something worthy of being read. I'm just too into what The Passion of the Dark Side has become to stop until I see it through. I'm having way too much fun with this, and though this is my first real fanfic, I think I might eventually write more.

As always, thank you for reading!

* * *

"But truly, which is more violating: the underhanded Jedi ability to influence minds, or a direct inquisition into memories and thoughts?" Kylo Ren was sitting across from me in his quarters, which were only slightly more well-lit than usual, and I was kneeling comfortably in the arm chair against one of its arms. The soft black blanket was wrapped around my feet to ward against how chill he seemed to like it in there. Our conversation had begun after the evening meal. Of course, that was hours ago and I was now on my third cup of trajin tea. The aroma was minty and sharp, and I felt that it kept me alert enough for intellectual discussions such as these, which had become a sort of nightly routine over the last week.

"Are you saying to me that the Sith never controlled thoughts? In the writings of Darth Malgus, he specifically mentioned something call the incantation of thought suppression, in which the caster channeled power _through their voice_ to silence the minds of the target and replace it with their own wishes. In fact, it seems like the Jedi learned it from the Sith, not the other way around." As I spoke I tapped my datapad, open to the very records of which I spoke, for emphasis. "Though less effectively it seems."

"Certainly, in Darth Malgus's time this was possible. However, incantations are not practical in every situation and the methods used to accomplish such things have been lost," he answered dismissively. "As you could see, there are no practical manuals, at least none survive, and why should they? Such arcane mysticism has been buried beneath more relevant uses of the Dark Side of the Force. Still, where the Jedi seek craven manipulations, at least the art of the mind probe is direct. It's an observation, not a direct influence." He shifted his position slightly and took another sip from his hotcaff. "Who's to say that the Jedi didn't use their famous 'mind trick' to get discounts with vendors? Or perhaps fool someone into their bed?" With that last bit, he looked at me pointedly, his eyes showing a smile that his lips did not reflect.

"Right," I said wryly with a derisive snort. "Jedi knights as pick-up artists. Very amusing."

"Think about it, Riala, who could truly say how many of their followers were simply 'tricked' into obeying their tenets? Who would willingly give up sex, emotion, _passion_ ," with every word, he gestured lightly and I followed his hand, so bright against the dark. "Especially considering the sheer power one can attain by channeling the darkness within themselves."

"You forget that it isn't just the Jedi that are able to do such things," I pointed out. "JB-zero-zero-seven. Surely you remember."

"Of course I remember," he said. And then his eyes strayed to my mouth. "That was most arousing." His voice was both husky and humorous as he looked at me, and I knew where his mind had already gone. I caught myself rolling my eyes despite my amusement.

"I am specifically referring to the way that I guided him to do as I wished. I don't think he would have participated so enthusiastically in front of a commanding officer of the First Order without some kind of nudge in that direction."

He mulled over this. "I suppose that's true, but it was not the same as the 'mind trick.' You still needed to coax him."

"That is the crux of it, really. I am less capable of controlling thoughts than I am of gently encouraging. In the past, without my clear focus, the effect has acted counter to the way I intended." I took another drink of my hot tea and swished it around in my mouth while I remembered my first post of active duty. Our conversations did not usually stray into such troubling personal territory. I felt it was relevant, however. "Just a couple of months ago, I was almost assaulted by a stormtrooper. Right outside of a promotional ceremony. I was so clueless then, I had no idea what I was doing."

Kylo Ren looked uncomfortably down to his hands the moment I mentioned the incident, but then he looked back to my face. "I did not know. I saw nothing of this when I read your thoughts."

I waved my hand dismissively. "It was avoided, but such things were accepted as a fact of life in that position. That is the night that I met Captain Phasma. Had she not come upon us, I would have been unable to stop it... So many can't." Thinking back to my experiences in servitude, I felt my chest clench with remembered pain and anger. I'd given barely any thought to the the others I'd left behind since I'd begun my ascent. These things didn't seem to touch me anymore. Especially up here, far above that icy white ball that seemed so small now. Up here, I'd started a new schedule; twice daily close-combat training with an instructor named Colonel Cormacks at the beginning of the day and again in the evening before dinner, whiel he middle of the day was occupied by my training with Kylo Ren. With so much to occupy me, I had little free time to mull over such matters, and I'd been quite alright with that fact until now.

"You are no longer so helpless," he said in a placating manner that rankled me slightly. "Imagine what you could do now in that same situation. You could make him succumb to your whims or your wrath."

"There are very few slaves with Force abilities, Kylo Ren," I pointed out, irritated suddenly.

"True. Such traits are usually discovered immediately and utilized accordingly."

"Do you mean that Force ability is immediately discovered from the moment the children are taken from their homes? Or is it usually sometime after they are brought back to base to fill the Order's ranks?" I asked quickly as heat began to rise in my chest. He said nothing for a long moment, but I could see his eyes hardening and his jaw working. I was starting to feel tired, and it was affecting my ability to bite my tongue. I was coming dangerously close to speaking treason against the Order. He hadn't lost his temper with me since that first night, but I was not fool enough to provoke him deliberately.

"Yes. That is how it is done. That is how it's _always_ been done. With the Empire under Sidious's reign, the Republic, the Jedi," he answered, gesturing with each word. His tone was starting to become agitated. "Before you even learn to speak, you are raised under one doctrine or another until you become an ever-repeating facsimile of your parents and their parents before them. It is only those that learn that there are other choices and are able to choose for themselves that are remembered for generations after their deaths."

"Of course, had my sensitivity been discovered immediately, I would have found myself on a very different path from this one."

"Perhaps," he said lightly with a shrug, becoming more subdued as he stretched in his place. "Even the most powerful adepts lack the ability to know what could have been."

I studied his face inquisitively as I absorbed his words. After a moment, I decided to ask something that had neeb nagging at the back of my mind for awhile. "Why do you think my abilities were not discovered sooner?"

He shifted his position and I didn't miss that he stifled a yawn. It was very early in the morning, I realized with a mild shock as I glanced down at my data screen. "I can't say. Perhaps your abilities expressed themselves later. Perhaps you unconsciously guarded yourself somehow. It is rare to discover those with Force sensitivities in recent times, especially since the decline of the Sith. Often, family lines are able to be traced, followed to predict potential attunements. A user without a notable family line is uncommon to say the least."

"I imagine that the strength of your sensitivity must come from a great lineage. I've never seen such power firsthand." I said very carefully, sandwiching my subtle curiosity between compliments so that he might not notice, and hoping that perhaps he was too weary to catch it. I felt a light prickling behind my eyes and blinked away the sensation, attributing it to tiredness.

"My lineage is mixed," he said, his eyes distant as he looked somewhere around the vicinity of my chair. "But very powerful, yes. My mother, and my mother's father were strong with the Force." I felt my stomach flip when I realized what he'd said. No matter how minor, he'd just revealed something about his past. I dared to investigate further, even as I knew that the slightest misstep might ruin what ground I'd gained with the elusive man that I'd been spending so much time with recently.

"I imagine this is what Supreme Leader Snoke saw in you when he started training you," I said in an offhand way, my heart pounding as I studied my data screen with great interest. I saw his eyes flicker up to me out of my peripheral vision, felt his Force presence spread, lightly touching the extent of my barriers probingly, but without too much strength behind it. Quickly, I continued, seeing the need to change subjects. "I admit that I find myself wondering about my own family history." He was still watching me, though, and I knew that I'd reached the limits of his willingness to confide in me.

"It is late, Riala. I suggest that you leave such thoughts behind. It does not benefit to dwell on the past. You should get some sleep. Colonel Cormacks is not a man who suffers excuses lightly." I sighed, which became a yawn, but I knew he was right. The cadet instructor was unforgiving, though he had remarked on my quick progress. Still, if I intended to be ready by 0800h, I needed to sleep now. Slowly, I stood up and stretched, and by the sound of my popping joints it was clear that we'd wasted many hours.

"I will see you at 1000 hours sharp, I don't care how tired you are," he teased, his voice slightly rough from hours of use. I bowed with some exaggeration as I stood to go, smirking at him. It was with some amusement that I considered the fact that, despite the sex, he still felt it important to adhere to protocol. No matter what, we slept in separate quarters and ate alone. I appreciated the solitude of meals by myself. I usually took the opportunity to read for pleasure. However, as I passed through the door into the hall, and then into my own space, I knew it was the nights alone that I found most difficult.

My schedule was as such: from 0800h to 1000h, I was under the command of Colonel Cormacks. I attended a lecture and demonstration with other young cadets (and some officers wishing to brush up) to learn the theories behind different kinds of combat. From 1000h to 1600h with a meal break in between, I attended lessons with Kylo Ren. We always began with wrath-honing meditations, and the time after was spent with theoretical applications of my offensive abilities. Limited as I was to the realm of sensory manipulation, I needed a living target and, lacking prisoners to practice on, and considering the fact that it was against regulations to experiment on other First Order personnel, he most often assumed the role or my training dummy. Of course, he was able to block all or most of what I could throw at him, and, so I couldn't get an accurate idea of the effects of my abilities. It was the best we could do. As he'd once admitted, he had never been a teacher before, so he, as much as I, was still figuring things out as we went along.

From 1600h to around 1800h, I attended a second, private training session with Cormacks. I was behind many of his cadets in experience, and required the one-on-one instruction if I meant to gain any ground. He was firm but knowledgeable, and I was interested to learn that he had daughters around my age, both of whom he'd trained himself. I had gotten the impression that something about his bearing was distinctly fatherly, especially when he mentioned that I was a quick study.

After the evening meal, however, my schedule was left clear, but almost immediately, I'd found myself in Kylo Ren's company.

It started as an accident. The night following our heated and prolific fucking in the observation deck (and then again in his shower), I found myself alone in my quarters, reading about the Jedi. Now that I knew they were no longer truly extinct, and that the one named Luke Skywalker was out there somewhere, my interest in them was piqued. I was most fascinated by the ones that didn't adhere to the teachings of the Light Side, the Grey Jedi as they were called. Like the Nightsisters, they found benefits to utilizing all aspects of the Force, not just that which was taught in accordance to their strict belief system.

Enthused, I had sent Kylo Ren a message. He was not far from his console, for he responded almost immediately. After a brief back-and-forth, calling to mind our discussions when he was away on mission for nearly two weeks, I started to feel rather silly conversing with him in such a way. I finally just invited him to come to my quarters so that we might speak in person. We were, after all, merely the hallway's width apart this time, not an entire galaxy (I could only assume). I was hesitant, though, at first; by arranging for separate quarters, he had made it fairly clear that it was not appropriate for us to share quarters for the night, even if we did engage in recreational sex with one another. Truly, I had no ulterior motives this time. Apart from our mutual sexual interest in one another, we also seemed to share a love of knowledge, and it was that facet of our strange relationship that I wanted for at the moment.

He didn't respond to my message, but within ten minutes, he was at my door, with a slight air of awkwardness; though if its cause was the fact that he had decided to leave his helmet behind, or because of the late hour, I didn't know. I invited him in, offered him some hotcaff, and when he didn't seem to know how to start, I mentioned the Dark Jedi and the Great Rift. At that point, his entire demeanor changed. He walked, appearing at once far too tall and too starkly black in my quarters, to the sitting area and folded his long body down into one of my beige chairs. We began an enthusiastic discussion of what had essentially been the predecessor to the Sith Order, and before long, any sense that we might be acting without propriety faded. Hours passed, and it was only after he left that I realized that the visit had been nearly platonic, simply two minds discussing their interests at leisure.

Of course, due to the nature of our mutual attraction, this wouldn't last. The following evening, five nights ago now, when I retreated to my quarters, I could not focus on reading. This was due in no small part to the fact that during training with him earlier, I'd had some difficulty avoiding libidinous thoughts, my mind tended to wander where it wanted. His presence, which I sensed across the hall, only brought such thoughts to the forefront. I could suspect that his thoughts were on me as well, merely for the fact that I could sense him reaching for me when often he kept them reserved to himself. As powerful as he was, Kylo Ren's probing aura sometimes betrayed his thoughts, either in his uncertainty or his desires. The warm, prickling sensation was potent, and though I could have shielded my thoughts from him, instead I let his piercing Force presence into my mind so that he could clearly see the filthy thoughts I was conjuring within.

Within moments, he was at my door, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. It didn't even have a chance to close behind him before we were stripping the clothes off of one another. He encompassed me and without breaking for air, we sank to the floor of my sitting area. Kylo Ren pulled his long body over mine and gently pinned me to the floor by the wrists with one of his large hands. With the other hand, he made a valiant attempt to massage my clit with his thumb while fingering me. Despite his enthusiasm, he needed some practice. To be fair, such ministrations required an advanced level of dexterity and I knew that he had little practice in such things. He was good with his cock, though, and with some amount of resignation, he let one of my hands free so that I could touch myself while he did what he did best, the muscles of his stomach, hips, and thighs working in concert to fuck me to incoherency. The dual sensations helped me attain an explosive orgasm, the effects of which I shared with him, bringing him to join me in crashing over the edge.

Almost accidentally, I slipped into my Force awareness in time to witness the shockwave of red particulate energy roll outward from us. It washed over everything in my quarters, including the coniferous shrub sitting beneath the window, the only survivor of my previous experimentations. I had a brief moment of worry that I might end up killing it too before my post-orgasmic torpor took over and I didn't care about anything except the warm glow in my belly. We lay there for a moment on the floor to catch our breaths, and I appreciated the fact that Kylo Ren and I seemed to have finally come to an understanding. He, at least, had seemed very content as he absently stroked my arm. Before too long, we gathered our wits and our clothes, and he left me alone to the silence and the emptiness.

After only a few days aboard the Finalizer, I was already starting to get antsy, and even now I had the coniferous shrub, whose appearance did show some marked improvements in new growth and more robust foliage, in my sleeping room with me as if to give the illusion that I was down on solid ground. It was purely psychological, I knew, for the material that comprised the floors of the Finalizer were nearly identical to that on Starkiller Base; the hallways and various subsections looked much the same, and without a port window to the outside, one might never suspect that they were aboard a starship. With its vast accommodations, I did not want for anything. But somehow, the knowledge that all that was beneath my feet was the vacuum, after the several decks and layers in between of course, made me feel somehow confined. Until General Rhidan had taken me to the observation lounge above the surface of the base, I had never laid eyes on its features or the open sky. But having solid rock beneath my feet, firm and immutable, was comforting. As much as I'd wanted to go out and see the galaxy, I was beginning to think that I was not cut out for life aboard a starship, and I longed to feel the surface of the base beneath my feet.

* * *

My sleep, as it had been for the past week, was wracked with strange, disjointed dreams and images. I saw the forests of my childhood, and a red planet that seemed to fill the sky. There were shouts and alarms, the smell of smoke, garbage, and of death. I also saw red, flashing light mingled with fire, in what my weirdly self-aware sleeping consciousness assumed was the destruction of my home. It was hard to tell the jumbled sensory experiences apart.

I awoke with sweat on me and Phasma's name on my lips, though I didn't know why. It was the morning of the ninth day. As if a woman possessed, before I took my morning shower and prepared myself for breakfast and training with Cormacks, I went into my office and, after discovering the appropriate contact information, I sent a request through to the archives. I sought the First Order's acquisitions records, and after inputting my clearance (Alpha-324, a special level granted by my prominence beside Kylo Ren), I knew my request would be approved. Why shouldn't it be? The data I desired was more than a decade old, and what underhanded use would someone have for resource gathering reports?

I knew that I would likely not receive the requested data immediately; it was likely stored in the databanks down below on Starkiller, and I would just have to wait. I went about my day as usual, but I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that my nightmare had left with me.

That evening, I finally received a response to my request. I left the mess hall before my evening meal was completed, and quickly went into my quarters. I took a shower and, not expecting that I would be seeing anyone else tonight, didn't bother to dress before I returned to my console. Before me lay endless lines of data, reports for a particular time period roughly sixteen years ago. I didn't know the exact date of my capture, nor anything else about it, but I could at least narrow it down to a planet with a forest biome. And perhaps one transporter that returned to base with five children on board: two girls and three boys. I didn't know what I expected to find. Every child acquired by the Order's resource gathering missions was assigned a random, temporary serial number which would be replaced later by the official designations once their role was decided. The living assets acquired, children and livestock, were indistinguishable from the nonliving resources such as food, materials, et cetera but for a single note to indicate the race/species, and none of the information was arranged in such a way as to make it easy to find categories of assets acquired.

After an indeterminate amount of time, I thought I might have found something in a particular report. It was from the correct time period, at least, a resource gathering mission to a place called Yavin 4. It had returned with a cargo of, among other things, five human children. As I had other times, I cross-referenced the name of the planet (or in this case, the moon) with the publicly available galactic planetary survey to weed out worlds without the right climate. I wasn't expecting anything but when the search returned results, including many images of the moon in question and its heavily forested surface area, I broke out into a cold sweat. I heard a message ding on my terminal, but I was too distracted by the information on my screen to care, and forgot about it instantly. The planet that Yavin 4 orbited was a red gas giant named Yavin, apropriately. I knew then that this was the vision I'd seen in my dreams, of a sky almost entirely filled by red.

According to public records, Yavin 4 was once a Republic stronghold. It apparently had a history with the Dark Side as well, having once been inhabited by an ancient Sith-worshipping race many millennia ago called the Massassi. Even now, Yavin and its moons was listed as a planet outside of the First Order's influence, and I found myself wondering in earnest who my parents had been. Were they Resistance soldiers or sympathizers? Was this affiliation the reason that my home and the town it occupied had been destroyed and everyone killed, children abducted? As a message to the Republic?

I knew that I'd found myself and where I had come from, and I needed to know more. I re-read the report multiple times, but the cold, objective information contained within it revealed nothing new. The information was truncated and limited to only what was needed for bookkeeping purposes. I thought about Armata. If I was correct, and I felt very strongly that I was, she might know more than I did. She wasn't so much older than myself, but it was better than nothing. Perhaps next time I was baseside, I would seek her out. Now, though, I was shaking. When I opened the message, I saw that Kylo Ren had sent it over an hour ago, requesting my presence in his quarters, but now I didn't think I could bring myself to see him.

How could the acquisition of young children, and the slaughter of their families and neighbors, be so inconsequential? How could the people with in the Order, specifically the ones whose company I'd grown to appreciate, allow such a thing to happen and to continue to happen? Even Phasma, whose responsibility it was to oversee training of the troops. Had she been one such victim of resource gathering, or was she one of the lucky ones that came from a background that allowed her to join of her own volition? I was scared of the answer. I began looking into the historical significance of Yavin 4, utilizing any resource at my disposal, but my quest for knowledge was interrupted.

There was someone at my door. At the moment, I was wearing nothing, so I loosely wrapped a robe around myself to at least make myself half-decent for Kylo Ren, for propriety's sake. I was ready to turn him away, regardless. Before I opened the door, I soothed my emotions, formulated an excuse to forgo our evening of shared company.

The officer standing was not Kylo Ren, and immediately, I wrapped my robes tighter around myself, horribly embarrassed by my underdressed state, my troubled mood momentarily forgotten. The young man, face partially hidden beneath the bill of his cap, was clearly embarrassed as well. It was only then that I saw the package that he held in his hand. A metal case stamped with the requisitions department seal.

"Uhm, er, Riala, ma'am, I was instructed to deliver this to you," he stuttered.

"By whom?" I asked, my voice as imperious as I could make it while standing in next to nothing.

"The commander, ma'am. Kylo Ren." Even saying the name seemed to make him nervous. I accepted it with an irritated glance toward the door across the hall and dismissed the officer, who seemed very eager to leave this part of the ship anyway. I took the case inside my quarters and set it down on the desk in the office. Unable to quell my curiosity for long, I opened it.

Nestled inside were two bladed weapons of different lengths, tucked within their own sheaths. Fascinated, I examined them carefully, drawing them out of their sheaths one at a time. One, a stiletto whose blade was about the length of my forearm, sat beside the other, which was a very short dagger perhaps the length of my hand. I could tell that there was something more to these weapons. They had electronic components in both their hilts and in their sheaths, and small controls were embedded in the handles. I left the controls alone, but practiced slashing and slicing them through the air, instantly appreciative of their balance and their light weights. The grips were comfortable and seemed to fit perfectly in my hands, and at the butt of their hilts I could see the logo of the First Order engraved.

Another message pinged on my terminal.

'I wanted to present my gifts to you myself, but as you were apparently otherwise disposed, petty officer Haroldis was given the pleasure. See me if you want further explanation.'

I instantly felt a spike of irritation at his presumptuous attitude toward my personal time, no matter the purpose. He had no idea what matters occupied me, nor their significance. He would have likely disapproved, anyway. I slid the blades back into their sheaths and buttoned the fastener that would keep them secure. A small green light embedded into the fastener's button illuminated when it was snapped shut, and I could see that something had been activated. I had no idea what these were. They might have had explosive functions built in, and for all I knew I had just armed them. It was probably best to go see him, despite my desires to maintain my solitude.

I quickly tugged on some leggings and a top and then covered myself in the robes once more, and with the weapons in either hand, I left my quarters and stepped across the hall. The floor was cold beneath my bare feet, and I focused on the sensation while I centered my thoughts. When he answered the door, I almost dropped what I was holding. Kylo Ren stood there, bare faced and bare-chested to just below his navel underneath loose black lounge robes. Tight black pants of a softer, stretchier material than his usual uniform, perhaps thermal underwear of some kind, showed every bulge and curve of his lower body. I gaped indiscreetly at him for a moment before meeting his eyes. His expression was decidedly aloof. Even now, I couldn't deny how intensely attracted to him I was, which only added another layer to my annoyance.

"I see you've received my gifts," he said simply, still standing in his doorway like a gatekeeper waiting for the right pass phrase.

"I did," I answered without inflection. "They are very well-crafted, yes. If this is how you intend to solicit my company from now on, I have a list." My words were sardonic as I regarded him with an arched eyebrow. He looked down at his palm, curled his fingers over it as if studying his nails.

"I had intended to give them to you tomorrow so that you might be able to use them in your evening lesson with Colonel Cormacks, but then I thought it would be best if you familiarized yourself with them first."

He still didn't meet my eyes and I regarded him suspiciously. "What is the meaning behind this gift?"

His eyes flickered to mine briefly before falling on the sheathed weapons I held. "Only that a warrior must have weapons that are suited to her." At first I was taken aback, a derisive laugh in my throat in response to his jest that I in any way resembled a warrior, before comprehension began to dawn. The way the hilts fit so perfectly in my hands, their light weights and their lengths.

"These were custom-made for me, weren't they?" He looked at me for a moment, but didn't answer. Instead, he lowered his arm, which had been rested on the frame of the door, and turned to enter his quarters, a sort of passive invitation. When the door closed behind me, he gestured for the knives and I handed them over. Much as I had, he examined them closely, drawing fingertips along the ridges and textures of the sheaths before unsnapping them and sliding the shining lengths of them out. His hands dwarfed the hilts, but still he held them with practiced understanding. I was momentarily distracted by the cinch in his brows as he studied the weapons from every angle, so serious. It was almost endearing.

"These will do," he murmured to himself.

"So… what are they?" I asked to wrest his attention away from them. He still hadn't explained anything.

"They are vibroblades," he said, looking at me with an expression of great significance. "Deadly weapons in the hands of any, but in the hands of the ignorant they can easily become just as deadly to their wielders. This," he said, holding up the smaller blade, easily unsnapping the fastener and slipping it out of its sheath, "is a vibro-shiv. Admittedly it is the chosen weapon of scoundrels and pirates, but it is effective. Of course, this particular weapon is of a much finer craftsmanship than many you would find outside of the Order." His pride was apparent, and I began to wonder just how much forethought he'd put into this. Carefully, holding it by the bladed end, still within its sheath, he presented the handle to me. I accepted it and pulled it out.

"The button under the handguard activates the vibro-function. It is a simple weapon, the only settings are off and on, but it can easily be concealed. Try it, and take care that you don't touch the edge." I did as he suggested, and pressed the button. A low-pitched thrum started, almost too quiet to hear, and the hilt felt somehow alive beneath my touch. "The vibrations generated increased the deadliness of this weapon many times over. With the right entry point, this tiny weapon can do far more damage than one might suspect."

I nodded and, with due reverence, I deactivated the function and returned it to its sheath. Kylo Ren drew the stiletto out next and, as before, he presented it to me hilt first with the blade still sheathed so that he did not touch it directly. I pulled it out and watched the play of light against the silver blade. It was quite lovely.

"The design of this weapon is rare, but one that I had specially commissioned. Often the blade's thinness makes the vibratory functions impractical for any precision or stealth, but I ensured that the generator in the hilt operates at subsonic frequencies. Activate it, the button by your thumb," he said, reaching forward. His fingers brushed mine as he showed me where it was and I felt some heat begin to creep into my face. Stop it, I told myself. He was focused on the subject of weaponry, and I knew that I was likely the only one aware of the brief skin contact. It was difficult to pay attention when I could clearly see the contours of his groin through the material of his pants. I pressed the button and, aside from a dim indicator light in green at the base of the blade, there was no sign that it was on. "The special generator means that it operates silently. It's been balanced so that you could use it to perform surgery if you wanted, but it is also capable of disemboweling a rathtar."

I was suitably impressed. "You had these made? For me?"

A short huff of air through his nose was the only sign that perhaps he was somewhat shy to admit this. "You need proper weapons, Riala, for when a situation calls for something other than the Force. Your abilities, especially, are not well-suited for every situation. Sometimes you must rely on more direct means to defend yourself." I batted aside my minor annoyance at the subtle jab.

"Is this why You've had me trained with Cormacks?" I asked, feeling stupid. When motioned for the blade, I deactivated it and handed it to him by the hilt. He slid it into the sheath and fastened it shut, and again I noted that there was a small light on the button. As if noticing where my eyes rested, he spoke.

"Indeed. The sheaths are self-charging and must be fastened shut to work." He met my eyes then. "I want you to continue training on the proper way to use such weapons in combat. Until then, it's probably best that you keep them sheathed. I can't express enough how easily they could cut through bone with far less pressure than you might expect."

I swallowed thickly and nodded. What an odd gift, I thought, but then I suppose it made sense coming from him. "Thank you," I said sincerely. I saw his lips twitch and for the briefest moment, I thought he might smile, but he didn't. He turned away toward the screens in his sitting area as if the information on them was suddenly more interesting than our conversation, and now I allowed myself to smirk openly as I held the sheathed weapons in my hands.

"Has there been any progress on your search for Lor San Tekka?" I asked conversationally to help him save face from what I suspected was a rare and grudging show of sentimentality.

"I suspect that we are coming close," he answered, and then turned his profile toward me. "When we find him, I want you to be there. You should see the face of the man who holds the key to our ultimate victory. I want you to help me uncover the secrets in his mind with me." Something about the way he spoke the words gave them extra meaning. As if, grotesquely, interrogating someone together were an act of intimacy akin to sex. I couldn't deny that a part of me got a sick thrill from the concept of interrogating a vile enemy of the First Order with Kylo Ren. In theory it seemed potentially exciting to so actively participate in the advancement of the First Order and the Supreme Leader's goals. But in practice, I suspected that it might not be so easy. Even thinking about how I'd felt after my first interrogation was enough to inspire nausea and guilt in me. I still didn't think I would be able to do it again. But what could I say? Clearly Kylo Ren felt that this was a great honor. And who knew, perhaps after my training, I would be able to manage my feelings more effectively.

"I would be honored," I said quietly. In his quarters, after being gifted with weapons that could disembowel a rathtar, as he had so colorfully described, and being invited to participate in the interrogation of an enemy to the Order, I wondered at just how well-suited he seemed to be in his place. He had unknowingly revealed that he came from a lineage of powerful force users, his mother, and her father before her. No mention of his father, though. Something about the way he'd spoken made me feel inclined to think that he had been much older than I when he was brought into the fold of Snoke's influence, though I had no way of being certain.

"What are you thinking, Riala?" He asked suddenly, startling me, and I realized that he had turned to look at me. I sensed that his presence had reached out toward me as if to discover my thoughts himself, a sign of his insecurity, but my shield, now ever-present as an act of automatic practice, prevented him from sensing anything. I realized that if anything, he was hoping for something further, some other show of my gratitude. How like a man. For a moment, though, I had no idea what to say.

"I admit that I am eager to put my training to practical use," I said carefully, recalling how limited our lessons had been, with him as the only person I could test my skills on. "I greatly desire to see action, Kylo Ren. I want to see firsthand those that would oppose you, and to perform as your weapon." It was mostly a load of shit, though it sounded good, and I knew it would derail him from my true thoughts. As intelligent as he was, I was starting to learn how to speak to him in such a way as to redirect his suspicions. It seemed as though I was successful, for when he heard the words, I saw his eye glitter, incensed.

"Riala, truly you are bloodthirsty," he sighed, stepping toward me. He raised a hand and stroked it gently down my arm, which sent tiny shivers through me at the contact. My eyes strayed to his bare chest and stomach. "Perhaps, with supervision, a practical exercise would benefit you. I will be aware of any future cadet training deployments that might further your education."

I smiled, carefully set the weapons aside on the counter surface of his food prep area, and then moved toward him. He thought me bloodthirsty, I mused as he pressed himself close to me, leaned down to kiss me. The word did not sit comfortably with me, even as I shamelessly engaged with those who enthusiastically perpetuated bloodshed and violence throughout the galaxy.

For a blissful time, my worrysome thoughts were forgotten to the passions of our bodies crushing together on his bed. Afterward, we washed one another in his refresher. Even after he was spent, he never stopped touching me and tasting me, planting open mouthed kisses on my neck and the edges of my jaw, sucking and licking the water off of my skin as if it tasted sweet to him. Despite his affections, my mind wandered to heavier matters. His origins and the many things he kept hidden from me, such as that door that remained ever barred to me just on the other side of his living area. My own origins, and the fact that he had no issue with the means through which I had come to be where I was. Not least was the fact that I, too, felt that I had to keep so much hidden from him for fear that I would be found out for a traitor, all of my doubts and questions and troubles. Of course, I had done nothing wrong, but I feared that if he could see my heart, he might suspect that all was not well.

Still, I would perform my part as best I could. My request to put my training to practical use was not entirely a ploy, I wanted to see how I managed in a real situation. As I tried to fall asleep, my anticipation for such an opportunity waylaid my troubling thoughts on my past and my future.


	30. The Naughty General

Author's Note: surprise!

* * *

We made basefall after twelve days in orbit. I never thought I'd be so happy to return to solid ground, even though I couldn't deny how greatly I'd enjoyed my time spent on the Finalizer, as well as the more direct attentions of my teacher. But the bubble had to burst eventually, for one reason or another. Kylo Ren, Commander-Inquisitor of the First Order, had other things to do besides train me, and frankly, I was ready for some more varied company. I was not worried, though. Something had changed between us in our time together, for good or ill, something that was not easy to put to words. Before we departed in his command shuttle, I put in a request for a change of quarters. I wanted a view of the exterior of the base, and while I knew such a request was somewhat presumptuous and might be difficult to accomodate, it was granted; most of the quarters were below the surface, due to some overly cautious safety regulations, but I was starting to grow accustomed to the greater power I held in my position.

My new living space was much larger, and as per my instructions, there were many samples of the native flora to brighten the space, spread throughout within in hanging pots and upon the floor. As in the quarters aboard the Finalizer, the main focus of the main room was a large picture window. The view looked out across the landscape, and in the distance I even saw snowy mountains. I sighed appreciatively. I was sure that it was my imagination, but my feet felt steadier here. I felt like I belonged.

I closed my eyes and reached out with my Darksight as soon as I'd finished exploring the new living space. Beneath me, I could sense the dun-brown motes of power that seemed to denote proximity to Ilum -for despite the fact that it no longer resembled a planet, I could no longer think of it in any other terms- and for a brief time I meditated, watching the Force energy flow through the vegetation around me. I enjoyed the peace of my new location. It was distant enough from any power generators that I enjoyed near silence.

As soon as I entered, I knew that I had received multiple messages on my console, three in total, though I'd deigned to ignore them until I felt like it. Two were from General Hux, and one was from Phasma. The captain had sent me a simple welcome, and I happily replied to her first. She was on base for now, though within a week she would be taking some of her cadets on their first deployment. We agreed to meet for drinks and sparring, and I could hardly wait. I was eager to show her the new things I'd learned, and show her my new weapons. I sent a message to Kylo Ren to let him know of her upcoming deployment, and suggested he speak with Phasma to sort out the details and determine if it was a good match for my further education.

Finally, I read Hux's messages.

'Riala,

At your earliest convenience, please see me.

Hux.'

I sighed, irritated, before I read the second message.

'Riala,

Forgive my impertinence. I am at your command. I will clear my schedule however it pleases you if you wish to see me.

Hux'

That was much better, I thought with a private smile. Clearly he was so eager to see me that he had forgotten his place. I would have to punish him for his indiscretion. Later. Now, I had business of my own to handle in the slave quarter, though the thought of returning there for the first time in so long made my heart race. I chose my wardrobe carefully – the fine materials that comprised my clothing of late would not suit. I wore loose, sand colored wraps and braided my hair in the style of my slavery, though I inserted decorative pins so that none would mistake me for an actual slave. Although, I thought with some humor, if such a thing did occur, it would give me some pleasure to assert my status to whichever fool made the error.

I left my quarters, and as soon as I reached the part of base that had them, I decided to use the servant access corridors. This time, I kept my eyes brazenly up and absorbed everything I could of the sights around me. Of course, there was nothing to look at, really. Slaves and servants, conspicuously absent from most of the common spaces of the base, were here in abundance. When I entered the slave quarters, though, a creeping sense of dread and nausea overcame me, and I wondered if this had been a mistake. I could have simply summoned Armata, but I knew that such an act would have been an insult, and I needed something from her.

I visited the Foreman. The old woman was busy, but when she saw me, the recognition dawned on her face visibly. She was sharp as a tack. I kept my eyes to hers, a ghost of a smile on my lips.

"So it's true," she said as soon as the door to her office closed behind me, her wrinkled face moving to reflect her surprise. I did not miss the sparkle of pleasure in her eyes. "221784-R yet lives."

"You are wrong. 221784-R is dead," I said, a quiver of satisfaction in my voice. I saw a smile begin to crinkle the outer edges of her eyes. "I am Riala, student to Commander Kylo Ren, slave to none."

"Alright, girl," she said in a tone that told me that she was clearly not impressed. I really liked this woman. "Thought I'd sent you to your death that day. Well, then. To what do I owe such illustrious company?" I didn't miss the hint of irony in her voice, and couldn't prevent the grin. It was comforting to know that someone who'd attained such respect among the slave class did not see me any differently.

"I'm looking for a slave, a servant. One in particular. Her name is Armata, designation 324795-A." She turned around in her seat to grab the data pad from the shelf behind her.

"I know Armata. Another lucky one," she said as she scrolled through the data. "Looks like she's off duty now. You'll find her in her quarters."

"Her quarters?" I looked at her curiously and when she met my eyes, her eyebrow rose, setting deep wrinkles into the skin above it, like tissue paper.

"Yes, girl, have you forgotten so soon where you used to sleep?" The judgement in her raspy voice was enough to make the heat rise to my cheeks and wish for my veil. I mumbled some kind of embarrassed backtracking and she waved a hand dismissively. "Is there anything else?"

I shook my head and moved to leave, but before I could walk through the door, she spoke again.

"You may have found a proper place for yourself, Riala, but I suggest that you never forget where you come from." I turned slowly to look at her. It was the first time she'd spoken my name, and something about the way it sounded coming from her sent a shock of cold recognition through me. She was already busying herself with something else on her desk, a tight look on her aged face. A giddy fluttering began somewhere in my stomach. How was it possible that I didn't recognize her? More importantly, just how old was she? When I was a child, I remember her already being ancient. Of course, through the eyes of a child, angry and terrified, many things might seem different.

"What is your name?" I asked finally. She looked up, then, her cloudy aged eyes piercing me with all of their years of hardship and sorrow, and triumphs as well.

"You might remember me as Matron Besh, though I haven't gone by that name in many years."

"How-" I started, but she cut me off with a look.

"Don't worry yourself about it, girl. I don't. It was long ago, and many children passed through my care." She spoke impatiently, and though many questions clamored into my mind, she continued. "It is good to see that you are thriving. Many don't."

Again, guilt gripped me like a clammy hand from within. I nodded. Already she'd moved on to other matters and was communicating to someone through her braid clamp, and I knew that our brief meeting was concluded. As I left her office, I felt smaller somehow. The arrogance that had driven me to request quarters above the base's surface so that I might look out upon it gave me such a sharp sensation of self-loathing that I was overcome by the urge to recant it, but I knew that doing such a thing would only cause more work for someone else. I wondered about the servants that had likely furnished my quarters for me, what they must have thought. If they knew that they were accommodating someone who had once been as they were. The wave of guilt passed, leaving a steady resolve in its place.

As I walked through the corridors back to my old quarters, I made a deliberate choice to look every slave and servant I passed in the face and cast them to memory. For so long I'd avoided thinking about it, all the while, these people continued about their duties, unaware of any other life. I remembered when my greatest ambition was to be a companion, a sexual slave, to anyone with rank, even a petty officer. More than ever before, I felt the anger inside of me swell. Kylo Ren had been correct, it wasn't only the First Order that participated in the subjugation of an entire population, that thrived on their labors, but still, it wasn't right, but what could I do? I realized immediately upon thinking this that perhaps I could do more than I had.

When Armata opened the doors to her quarters and saw me, I had steeled myself against her hate, her contempt. It wasn't my fault that Rhidan was assassinated, but still I felt partly responsible for the fact that her plans were foiled. I saw no hate there, only joy, and that startled me more than anything. She pulled me inside, and I let her, momentarily stunned as I looked upon what had once been our shared living space. It seemed so small now. I looked at her, and some of my guilt was alleviated when I saw how well she appeared, how healthy. We immediately began talking, her more than me, about everything she'd been up to. I listened with polite interest in her daily goings-on, but my mind was elsewhere, working to think of something I could do for her, for all of them. It seemed an impossible task, but I felt that I owed it to them.

When I finally left the slave quarters, many hours had passed. Armata bore me no ill will. Her sights had already moved on to another officer, not a general, but important nonetheless, and while I pitied her for her ambitions being limited to attaching herself to another, I did not let her see. To my disappointment, I didn't learn much from her about our childhood, she'd only been four and a half when we'd been taken, but she was interested to hear what I'd learned about the moon that was our home. I made the decision to omit the parts about Yavin 4 being a Republic stronghold. The information would not have benefitted her in any way, and I felt that it might ruin her mood. What good would it do her to know that our abduction was likely a result of our parents' allegiances to the Republic or the Resistance?

I'd briefly seen Dannon, but he was busy himself with his duties in the officer's spa. He had little love for me, and I didn't blame him. I entered my new quarters with renewed appreciation. Through my window, I could see the sun setting over the snowy surface, casting everything in a wash of red and pink, long shadows stretching across the landscape. After staring out the window for a while, I was struck by the sudden, irrational desire to go out there myself and walk amongst the trees, to breathe in the fresh air and feel the chill on my face. I dismissed it for now, it was far too cold, and I had no real reason to do it. Still, when I settled in to read, I kept close to that view as the sunset became dusk, and then night.

* * *

"General," I said, my voice even. Hux turned around, his mingled surprised and elation briefly shattering his careful composure. It was just past midday the following day. Around us in the command center, officers bustled about and techs in the level below us were busy at their consoles, much as it had been the last time I was here. Suddenly, the bustle of the room around us seemed to fade as our eyes locked, as if the two of us existed in our own pocket universe. The expression on his face had made the extra effort to get to this part of the base entirely worth it, though I did note with some consternation that he still appeared a little thin and drawn.

"Riala," he uttered before he could smooth his features. "I was not expecting you."

"I know. Do you have a moment?" I locked his eyes with mine, expressing everything I was thinking right at that moment. Most of it was very rude. He swallowed visibly, even though his expression was aloof as his blue eyes moved around the room.

"I'm afraid that a moment is all I have. Had you given warning, I might have arranged my schedule to accommodate you." Though his words were spoken with the same airy lilt that it always had when we were around other personnel, my discerning ears did not miss the hint of regret and longing in it.

"Twenty minutes is all I ask," I said neutrally. Confusion crossed his features, and I had to force myself to keep from smiling.

"I think that is possible, if you would allow me to make arrangements." I nodded and looked around with deliberate aloofness. General Hux walked over to the holographic display in the center of the top level and spoke quietly to an officer there. The woman, her eyes hidden beneath her cap, nodded and continued her work dutifully. I caught a glimpse of the three-dimensional projection, it seemed to be a diagram of the internal workings of the base, and though I would have liked to examine it more closely, Hux had returned to me. I took pleasure in the look of nervous trepidation on his face. He gestured graciously toward the door, and I nodded, following close beside him as we left the command center and crossed the hall into his private office. The war room immediately within had seen some use, I noted with curiosity. Plastiprene diagrams and missives were scattered around the edges of the table and the chairs around it were in minor dis-arrangement. Together we entered his office. He locked the door before turning toward me. His lips were parted slightly, and I could see the light in his eyes as he searched my face for some explanation.

"General," I said with a smile. "It seems that my earliest convenience is now, or do you not remember what you said to me in your message yesterday?"

He swallowed thickly. "I apologize. I was… eager to see you. I'd hoped that my second message would amend my mistake."

"I am aware. Still, you must be punished. Do not forget that we meet because it is my pleasure, not yours."

His reddish-brown brows cinched further, and his eyes flickered to my lips. He nodded tersely. I would never tell him how much I'd looked forward to seeing him as well. Kylo Ren was electrifying, passionate, and commanding, but I desired more than he could give me. He would likely never be content to let me dominate him so completely as Hux did, and part of me needed that as much as the general seemed to need to be dominated.

"I am at your mercy," Hux said, his face tense and expectant.

"You're fucking right you are," I said icily, though the heat was beginning to burgeon inside of my belly. His face blanched, and I allowed myself to appreciate how truly handsome he was when he was unguarded. "Remove your jacket, scum, and turn to face your desk." There was the briefest moment of hesitation, and I knew that his thoughts were on the pressing matters of his job. "Don't worry, General. You will be able to return to your duties. You are mine for the next fifteen minutes. You'd best hurry, though, your continued disobedience is wasting my precious time."

Quickly, he hurried to remove his jacket, which he carefully folded and placed atop his desk and then, slowly, he turned away from me. I could see the fear in the tension of his straight back and the set of his shoulders. I drew my eyes appreciatively down the back of his head, from his neatly trimmed and combed red hair, down the line of his neck, his spine, and then rested on his ass. He had a nice ass, I thought with a small sigh, something I had yet to fully take advantage of. I knew he was anxious, and I luxuriated in it. What could I possibly do in fifteen minutes?

"Undo your belt, General, and open the front of your trousers." He was shaking as he moved to comply, his hands clumsy as he unfastened the belt. I could hear the metal parts rattling. When he'd done as I asked, I stepped up to him, close enough that the toes of my shoes nearly touched the heels of his boots, and slowly brought my hands up to touch his sides. He jerked, surprised at the contact, and I heard his breath catch. Slowly, I drew my hands down his sides, feeling the contours of his ribs through his dress shirt as well as the muscles, drinking in his body heat like ambrosia.

"Bend forward, place your hands flat on the desk," I ordered, though my voice was low and thick with my own desire. He moved to do so immediately. I was impressed. In this current position, I could clearly see how his trousers, with a rounded thigh in the military style, hugged the curves of his buttocks. Without warning, I drew my hands down to his waist and jerked his pants downward, making him flinch, until they were bunched at the tops of his knee-high leather boots. Underneath, he wore the same tight undergarment, black, that he seemed to favor, and which seemed to favor him. I bit my lip to help quell the want that such a sight elicited in me. Between my legs, I was already starting to react to the situation, a faint ache and a gathering of warmth sitting heavily. It had been too long since I'd indulged. There was little time now, though, to linger. I glanced up to his head, which I could see was turned slightly to the side as he hoped to get a glimpse of what I was doing. I would allow this minor disobedience. After all, I had not ordered him to look straight ahead, and his uncertainty only heightened my malicious wants. I drew a fingernail down his spine, and reacting to my touch, it straightened, pushing his ass out further behind him, exactly as I'd hoped.

When my finger reached the waistband of his undergarment, I hooked the stretchy band with it and pulled it down underneath his ass, exposing the cleft of his white, round cheeks. I could feel the front catch on something, and I knew with some amusement that he already had an erection.

"Have you been doing as I ordered? Have you been touching yourself, scum?" I asked, returning my eyes to the sliver of face that I could see. He was breathing hard, now, and I could see the shine of his blue eye, trying so hard to look at me from his position.

"Yes, Riala."

"Show me. You may move one hand."

He hesitated, and I lashed him with a spike of wrath, carefully measured so as to shock him more than pain him, and he yelped. My control had so greatly improved with my training. Quickly, I saw him move one hand from the desk's surface and below it to his front. I heard him swallow, saw his arm muscles tense beneath the sleeve of his shirt as he grasped himself. Slowly, he began to move his arm, and I knew he was stroking his cock as I'd ordered.

"I rather like your ass, Hux," I said lightly as he pumped. His movements quickened slightly, and I took note. "In fact, I've been thinking about it since the last time we spoke."

"You honor me, Riala," he said roughly, though I could still see that he was hesitant, unsure of where I was going with this. I reached forward and touched his white cheeks with detached fascination, and I watched him shiver and sigh. Suddenly, I drew a hand back and popped him on one rounded buttock. The sound from the contact of my palm to his skin rang in the air, and he grunted, bucked forward slightly, and the hand on his cock faltered momentarily before continuing with vigor.

"I think I'd like to fuck you, General," I said slyly, watching his face, which turned more to the side to regard me.

"Surely I am undeserving of such an honor," he said, and I heard the confusion in his voice, relished in it. I responded by pressing my body against his, grabbing him by his pale hips, digging my nails into his cool flesh. He groaned lowly, and the noise sent a spike of adrenaline through me.

"You misunderstand, scum," I said, grinning wickedly, thoughts of making him writhe beneath me as I penetrated him -somehow- dancing before my eyes. "I want to fuck you. I want to claim your ass," I punctuated this with a sharp thrust of my hips ramming my groin into him, making him stumble forward. I saw the hand that was still on the desk tighten into a fist. The side of his face that I could see was brightly flushed now as he caught my meaning. His hand was pumping steadily now, and I knew that even talking about such matters was enough to drive him crazy, confirming my suspicions about his predilections. As soon as he'd made it clear that he and Kylo Ren had been involved intimately, I'd wondered who had done what. Considering both of their personalities, the answer had seemed obvious.

"Would you like that?" I asked, knocking him forward with my hips as though I were a man, as though I were somehow properly equipped to actually do as I was saying.

"Yes, Riala," he groaned, his voice breaking between pants. I knew he was close, his chest and back were swelling with heavy breaths and his arm was a blur as he stroked his cock, tragically out of my line of sight. I couldn't deny that I was wet. What better way to dominate someone?

"Come for me, scum," I snarled, stepping back and smacking him hard enough on his ass that I thought someone might hear it outside the war room in the hallway. He cried out and then his entire body tensed and shuddered, his torso bending forward over his desk as his ass clenched, and he came. Belatedly, I looked around his office for some kind of tissue, and spotting a box, I grabbed it and pushed it in front of him. Quickly, he grabbed a wad and, still bent over his desk breathing heavily, he wiped up the mess from his front and hands.

"At ease, General," I said with wry humor once he began to come back to reality, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice. I was feeling energized, giddy. Slowly, he turned to face me, disheveled and flushed, hands shakily trying to clean up his mess. I sighed as I looked upon him. He looked beautiful undone. He set aside the soiled tissues and slowly tugged his undergarments back into place, and then his pants, tucking his shirt back into them before closing them and fastening the buckle. I grinned. "And with a couple minutes to spare. Very nicely done."

He didn't seem to notice my praise. "Did you mean what you said?" He asked, searching my face anxiously, his voice catching slightly. He cleared his throat and pulled a small folded comb out of his trouser pockets and flicked it open before attending to his hair. I shrugged.

"Well, I'm ill-equipped for the task, of course," I said casually. "If such a thing were possible, I was _very_ serious." General Hux's expression was intense and excited. I was puzzled, if amused.

"Certainly it can be arranged," he said quickly, and I became aware with some surprise of the possibility that such a thing had already occurred to him. Perhaps my interest was not so unheard of after all. "I will need your measurements, and any specifications, but I can have something drafted up and fabricated, with your approval."

I tried to picture what he might be thinking of, but I couldn't. "Very well. I am intrigued. Are you not concerned that such an inquiry might draw scrutiny?" He gave me a sideways glance as he stepped around his desk, picked up the trashcan that was on the floor, and swept the used tissues into it. I noted that there were others already inside of it.

"I know of discreet channels where one can obtain all manner of things. None need know who I am, as long as I have the credits."

I nodded, impressed. My perverted little General. "Make it so. I want to be consulted. I might have some ideas."

"Of course, Riala," he said. He set the trashcan back down and straightened his posture, regaining his stiff, proper countenance. It was time for him to get back to work, but his eyes still shone with some amount of heat. "I hope that you might allow me pleasure you next time, Riala… if I may be so bold," he started, faltered. I felt my brow rise curiously. "I long for the taste of you."

A flash of heat flared between my legs and my breath caught before my irritation took over. He'd deliberately said that hoping to make me react exactly as I had. I narrowed my eyes as I looked at him, and my voice was hard. "Impertinent, General," I warned, enjoying the subtle fear that rose in his eyes. "You should be more concerned with what I'm going to do to you next time."

I left him alone to gather his wits, pleasantly buoyant. Due to the nature of how things had developed back in Hux's office, I found that my mind had strayed to the thought of Hux and Kylo Ren together. I tried to picture them naked as they touched one another, kissed, fucked. I sighed, regretting that I would never see such a thing. At least I had something to think about when I was alone in my quarters tonight.

* * *

Author's Note #2: I thought things were starting to get too serious. Oh, also, new tag/warning for future pegging. *cackles*


	31. The Soldier and the Siren

Summary: Riala utilizes some free time to further explore her abilities with a willing test subject. It does not go entirely as she planned. The return of JB-007 :p

* * *

I returned to my quarters to let off some steam, only to find that Kylo Ren had sent me a brief message informing me that I would be leaving base for deployment at the end of the week, and that the details would be forwarded to me separately. I was thrilled and felt ready to test my mettle against real enemies in a real (albeit supervised) combat situation. In the rest of his message, he indicated that he would be in conferences and debriefings over the next few days, and though he didn't give any specific details, I suspected that they had something to do with the search for Lor San Tekka and that the news was not necessarily good.

Obviously, despite his previously stated intentions to keep me at his side, whatever he needed to deal with wasn't anything I was privileged enough to hear, but I didn't really care. He would tell me what I needed to know. The fact was that I didn't care nearly as much as I probably should have; I had my own objectives to pursue now that I was back on base. I suspected that the unique factors that had led to my Master's and my rapport aboard the Finalizer no longer applied on solid ground; there would be no more nightly discussions and debates, and personal pleasures and one-on-one training would have to come second to the duty to the Order. It had been a strange and wonderful experience, cut off as we were from the tedium of daily life, but it was over now. It did not really bother me. While I couldn't deny that I'd enjoyed most of the experiences of the last 12 days, and I'd certainly begun to see my powers grow in precision and strength as well as my physical agility, I felt that I'd gained all that I could in the limited setting.

Since our return, I'd been reading up on uses of the Force that seemed to fall just outside of the sphere of the Dark Side, uses which might displease Kylo Ren were he to discover my interest in them. If I could project emotions on others, then it stood to reason that I should be able to detect them as well. I had never truly tried, but then I had always been very perceptive the moods of people around me. I'd attributed it as a necessary skill for survival in the lowest caste, but perhaps that perceptiveness had always been preternaturally enhanced by my Force sensitivity. If I were able to truly read the emotions of others, the next step might be the ability to discern truth from lie, and any fool could see the value in such a talent.

Even if a person were able to conceal their emotions from outside observers, dishonesty tended to have physiological symptoms: a quickening of the pulse, a sweating of the palms, a spike of adrenaline. Jedi Consulars, once the diplomats and mediators of the Jedi Order, were trained in this ability and utilized it while navigating through sensitive negotiations. For reasons which I could not fathom, I could find little to no mention of its use within the Sith Order. As such, I thought it best that I not bring my curiosity to Kylo Ren's attention.

I needed to practice, and I needed someone on whom to practice. Someone that was low-ranking enough perhaps to follow my orders, someone that wouldn't report my independent research to their betters, and someone who wasn't entirely helpless should something go wrong. Perhaps, even, someone who might be eager to assist me. I could think of one man who best fit those requirements, and I had to admit that I was looking forward to the prospect of seeing him again.

I delved into the personnel database to find all that I could on the stormtrooper JB-007. Kylo Ren had mentioned that he had some experience with the Force, and I could see now that he was actually Force sensitive himself to some small degree. According to regulations, as soon as his ability was discovered, he was moved into a program of training where his abilities, while low in potency, could be used to detect mind-altering Force influence and perhaps even resist it to a degree. Of course, it was much harder to resist something that was pleasant, and I doubted his training had prepared him for what I'd done to him before, and certainly not what I had in mind now.

I found his shift schedule, mostly guard duty with mandatory shifts in less pleasant tasks. He was scheduled as off duty this evening, and I suspected that he enjoyed libations after his shifts as most soldiers did. Through some subtle inquiries, I deduced which bar he might be found within; a popular establishment near troop quarters. I knew that my sleuthing was somewhat underhanded, but I was not confident enough to simply summon him via message.

I dressed in a way that wouldn't garner excess attention and entered the bar, called the Iron Brew, and found an alcove with a table where I could wait out of sight. I ordered a beer that I had no intention of drinking and waited. I didn't have to wait long; within fifteen minutes, a group of soldiers in uniform entered, laughing and talking boisterously. They were welcomed by others already seated at the bar, and for a moment I felt a poignant sense of isolation. I didn't have peer relationships as he did. I had always been an outsider, and my rise only served to disassociate me further from my peers. I decided to give him some time to enjoy the company of his peers before making my move.

Surreptitiously, I observed, making sure to hide my face any time I thought he might look in my direction. I maintained my diligent surveillance until he finished two mugs of beer. I didn't want him to be totally soused, but a little intoxication might help. As soon as he finished the second mug, I quietly slipped out into the hallway, leaned against the opposite wall, and closed my eyes. When the Darksight came to me, the energy signature of every person within a ten-yard radius of my position seemed to suddenly flare into existence. The bar across the hall from me was thick with life, but I wanted to locate one man in particular.

Somehow, among all the clusters of light and energy within the Iron Brew, I knew which one belonged to him. It was similar to the way that the voice of a familiar person might stand out in a crowd, I knew it was him. I honed in on him, bypassing all others. I conjured a thought into my mind, a memory of a pleasant feeling, a memory that we shared.

There was an almost palpable spark, like a static shock, the moment I connected with him. I sent a small spike of bliss through that connection, straight to the core of him. With his training, I suspected that he was better equipped to understand the meaning behind the invasive sensation, whereas a regular person might merely find it strange and spare it no further thought. After a moment, I felt a swell of elation: the little ball of fire that was JB-007 began moving toward the exit, toward me. He stepped through the door and our eyes instantly met. The bridge of emotion I had built between us surged, as though the excitement I felt after successfully calling him to me through the Force granted it extra strength.

"You," he said with some wonder. "I knew it was you…"

I smiled at him. He glanced either way down the corridor, and with his helmet tucked under an arm, he walked across to me. I could already tell that his mind had strayed to our last encounter by the way his eyes rested on my lips.

"What are you doing here? Were you in the bar?" He wasn't drunk, but the beer had given his white cheeks a healthy color.

"I was waiting for you."

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, glanced down the hallway again. I still felt the connection between us, but when I examined it, I found that it wasn't merely one-way. I felt something coming from him, an extra layer of depth that felt distinctly… eager. He wanted to get me alone, I realized. This would be easier than I thought.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" his voice was low, discreet. "My quarters aren't far."

I smiled demurely and nodded. Obviously, I would need to explain my purpose to him. The reason behind this meeting was more than simple pleasure, but it could wait until we had more privacy.

Together, we walked through the halls. He was off duty, otherwise I suspected he might have worn his helmet. As it was, I did not miss the subtle sideways glances he spared me as we moved together through this section of the base. Whatever thoughts he had, he did not voice them, but I could almost feel their tangible presence in the air above us. Likely, he was questioning my sudden appearance. I could still sense the layer of emotion, the eagerness that I'd felt before, as well as a hint of curiosity.

He stopped in front of a door, which chimed after it scanned him, and then opened. I followed him inside quarters that was almost exactly the same as my old ones; a small sitting room with a terminal led into a bedroom with a small closet-sized refresher. The door closed behind us, and we were alone. He immediately entered the bedroom, and I followed, standing in the doorway to watch him. There was a locker at the foot of his bed, which he opened. Quickly and expertly, he began the process of removing each piece of his armor. I could tell that this was a process with which he was very familiar; he didn't even need to look at the clasps and fasteners as he opened them. Instead, he watched me, his cool blue eyes probing with keen interest.

"I didn't think I'd see you again," he said conversationally, carefully placing each segment into its place within his footlocker.

"I admit that my seeking you out was not just for recreational purposes," I answered. He regarded me calmly. I felt his slight hesitation, even though he didn't express it outwardly and continued to strip off the white plates. My Force empathy was already becoming more effective.

"What can I do for you?" His voice was light, carefree, but he watched me carefully. I took a deep breath.

"I intend to use your body and your sensitivity to the Force to further my own training," I stated bluntly. He paused, giving me his full attention. My heart raced, but I felt that I'd chosen the correct words. There was no need to mince words. As a soldier, I thought he might respond better to direct talk. "I give you my word that I mean you no harm. My abilities can be quite enjoyable to others."

"I haven't forgotten," he said, his voice low. His eyes didn't break from mine. "What of your Master?"

"Kylo Ren's business takes him elsewhere. It's just you and me, JB-007. Truly, this time."

"Seven," he said. "Everyone calls me Seven."

"Seven," I repeated with a small smile. His eyes were so stunningly blue, I felt my concentration waver slightly when confronted with them. I reached for him and allowed my senses to envelop him. I didn't even have to close my eyes, I could feel his energy as plainly as I could see him now, but for the sake of meditation, I let my lids drop, slowed my breathing. I let the Darksight extend my awareness. He was impatient. It was making me feel antsy.

He didn't answer at first. I felt... something. It wasn't nervousness exactly. There was a warmth between my legs, a stirring that was at once familiar and foreign to me.

"How about you get out of those clothes," he said, his voice low, "and into something less substantial." My eyes opened suddenly and met a cool, wicked gaze. Despite all my composure, I felt the warmth rise to my cheeks and a foolish giggle bubble up in my throat. I kept it down, but I couldn't stop from smirking. He was smooth.

"What an excellent idea," I said. I was immediately reminded of the last time we'd met, under the observation of Kylo Ren, and how thrilling it had been to perform in front of an audience. Now, I felt a different kind of thrill. No one was watching now. Whether he knew it or not, Seven was at my mercy. I could do whatever I wanted with him.

I began removing my clothes, aware that he was watching me raptly. I found it amusing that nudity was such a taboo. True, now that my body was my own, I tended to choose clothing with modest cuts that, while fitted, showed no more skin than was necessary. At one time in my life, I'd accepted the fact that my body was not my own, that my superiors were free to use it in any way. Now that I was free, I actually found the coverage of modest clothing somehow liberating without the worry of catching the focus of unwelcome advances. Still, though, in a context where I was a willing participant rather than an object, I was nearly as comfortable naked as I was clothed. Even as he set to work removing his bracers, his eyes never left my body.

"One might think that you haven't seen many naked women," I joked lightly, looking up at him as I pulled my tunic over my head. He smirked, and I felt a jolt of warmth strike me between my legs, a reaction all my own to his handsome features and his cool humor. I could feel his growing arousal, and it was electrifying. I knew my experiment was already a success. but I needed more, I wanted to be sure.

"It's different with troopers," he responded conversationally as he set his bracers into their place within the footlocker. "When you train and fight next to those women, it's difficult to think of them that way."

I had a newfound respect for this man upon hearing this. I was already naked, but he still wore his black body suit. I walked toward him and his eyes moved up my body very slowly. As soon as I was within arm's reach, he reached out and grabbed me around the waist, jerked me into him, and I uttered a startled laugh even as I braced against him with my hand on his chest. I enjoyed the firmness of his body beneath the under armor body suit. He didn't let me go, though, and even though the act had begun as a playful gesture, I could tell that it had quickly become more serious.

I sighed, as much an expression of exasperation as an attempt to settle my racing pulse. I looked to his face. There was a level of intimacy to be said for facing someone whose eyes matched mine in height. I actually suspected that, at 1.82 Imperial meters, I was slightly taller. Still, his figure was cut like a stone sculpture, and the erection I felt through his body suit was as hard as a rock as well. Without supervision, I could see how this situation could easily get out of hand, and I pushed back. He gave the slightest bit of resistance before he let me step away.

"For the sake of my research, I need to maintain objectivity," I said with some ambiguity.

"What does that mean?" He asked, his voice husky. In answer, I drew my hands down his arms and pressed them to his sides.

"It means don't move, and let me do the work." I began to unfasten the front of his body suit. He let me, following my hands with his eyes and then looking between them and my bare breasts. I luxuriated in every new inch of exposed flesh, drank in every solid line delineating his muscles from one another, the heft of his pectorals and the firm ripples of his abdomen. As I drew the seam lower, I saw the beginnings of his sandy-colored pubic hair form a tantalizing trail beneath his navel. His breath was growing steadily faster. Tentatively, I drew fingertips along the open seam, bare skin against the bare skin of his abdomen, and reached out with my senses at the same moment.

A shudder travelled through us both simultaneously, and I felt my groin tighten against some kind of restraining force. My breath caught in my throat. How curious, I thought as I realized that I was experiencing his erection. How deliciously uncomfortable. I looked to his face again, incensed by the roughness of his breaths, but he was focused very singularly on the proximity of my hand to his groin. I could feel his need, and while I opened myself to his feelings, it became my need. I felt the moist warmth begin to grow between my legs. It was somewhat confusing to feel both at once, but I could differentiate. His lust was more urgent, more immediately pressing, whereas mine was mildly distracting.

Slipping my hands beneath the body suit at his shoulders, I pulled it down, and he helped shrug t off, exposing dense biceps and firm forearms. Together, we tugged the body suit down over his muscular hips and thighs and he stepped out of it, pushed it aside with a foot. What a fine specimen he was, I thought with some amount of longing. I didn't need the visual confirmation, but if there'd been any doubt as to his interest, I could see it protruding plainly in front of him; his cock was monstrous, and as stiff as a ramrod, and for a moment I was taken aback by the sight of it. He was well-endowed enough to give me pause. The last time I'd seen it, I hadn't been able to get a good look because of the way we were positioned. Now, though, with it plainly before me, it was a different matter. I cleared my throat as I tried to figure out how to even approach it. I tried to appear unphased, though not soon enough apparently.

"Having second thoughts?" Beneath the easy tone of voice, I could sense the nearly undetectable hint of resignation. Something told me that his prodigious size had caused some issue for him in the past. Perhaps some of his partners had been unwilling or unable to accommodate him, understandably.

"I just need a moment to get acquainted," I said comfortably.

I closed my eyes. I listened to my feelings, let them guide me. My Force-sense experimentation aside, I genuinely wanted to help him. Whatever the context, I could tell that Seven was basically a decent man. If nothing else, he'd shown himself to be a generous and enthusiastic sexual partner, and he was willing to let me practice on him. Perhaps he was also a bit reckless. I placed a hand on his chest, focused on the warmth and how it rose and fell with his every breath. I felt his life radiate through my palm. He was overflowing with it. It was intoxicating.

I bit my lip, slid my fingers across his skin and trailed them downward, lightly tracing every ridge and dip of his pecs, his ribs, his smooth abdomen. I opened my eyes so that I could watch his face when I wrapped my hand most of the way around the base of his cock; my index finger and thumb did not quite meet on the other side. His face tensed and he closed his eyes. Alright then, I thought with some trepidation, this isn't so bad. I wet my palms with my saliva, and then, aided by the slickness it provided, began to stroke him. He uttered a throaty groan. I moved slowly at first, trying to get a feel for him, to grow accustomed to his heat and body language.

I moved slowly and carefully, quieted my mind and allowed my senses to reach out and sense what my eyes could not see. Seven was brilliant, a swirling mass of energetic particles, whose movement was only intensified by his aroused state. I felt that tightness between my legs, some part of what he was feeling at that moment, the heavy ache of swollen flesh, the tantalizing sensation of the pressure that my firm hand provided. The experience of having an erect cock was so different. It was a specific kind of ache that invoked the urge to thrust forward, and I arched my back as I tried to alleviate the sensation. I felt the muscles in his hips and abdomen flex as he did the same.

I felt my own body's urgent desire to be filled, and his need to bury it and to be enveloped on all sides. I was eager to accommodate him. Using both hands, slick with saliva, I gripped his shaft and, with gentle but firm pressure, I drew them from base to tip, encircling him completely in a tight ring. He groaned, and waves of pleasure and yearning rose along my spine and converged in my cunt, and I clenched reflexively. How did men manage? Even when I was fully aroused, my mind was ultimately in control. But this was almost maddening. I found my hips moving forward with the movement of my hands. Anatomically, I felt the intense desire to fuck something. I heard his rough breathing, and felt him move with me. The result, of course, was collision. The pressure of the turgid tip of his penis against my pubic mound almost tipped me over the edge.

A large, heavy hand touched my arm and I was suddenly brought back to myself. I was sweating and breathing hard. The cool air caught the moisture that was slicking my upper inner thighs. I paused in my ministrations for a moment to get a hold of myself. My breaths were shallow.

"You alright?" He asked, his voice tense with restraint.

"Oh yes," I breathed, feeling the heat inside of me simmer. I felt that being in touch with his arousal only made my reserve of power that much stronger. As if the energy I derived from my own emotions were somehow doubled from contact with his. I felt that I was overflowing with it.

I wanted more of him. I wanted to taste him. Gently, I pushed him back toward the bed, and once he understood, he went all too willingly to sit on its edge. I sat next to him on the firm mattress, guided him to lean back on the bed. He rested on his elbows to watch me. I lowered myself, braced one hand on his firm hip. I saw his breath quicken. He held perfectly still. I examined his cock, inquisitive. I'd never used my mouth in such a way before, but I knew from personal experience that it was quite enjoyable to be on the receiving end. This would be interesting. I licked my lips, stretched my jaw, took a breath. Cautiously, I darted a questing tongue out, licked the head of his cock; immediately, he jerked. It tasted like skin, with a hint of a masculine musky scent. I was going to enjoy this.

Keeping a grip around the base with one hand, I slid my mouth over him, as far as I could comfortably fit. As I pulled back, on a sudden impulse, I decided to use my tongue to stroke his shaft firmly from underneath. How intimate, to have such direct physical connection to his entire body's nervous system, to feel the beat of his heart through his most vulnerable body part. He was breathing very hard now, lost in the sensation as I pushed my head forward again to fill my mouth with his hot, solid flesh. I could tell that he was struggling to maintain his control. I was struggling to maintain concentration myself; this was not an easy task. As well-endowed as he was, my jaw muscles were already aching, saliva thickening at the back of my throat from my working tongue and the contact of the head of his cock with my soft palate.

I wondered… I let my senses reach out, just a little bit, to get an idea of what this felt like. Everything clenched suddenly as I was overcome by a tidal wave of raw desire. A painful need to push forward, to plunge deep into the warm, tight hole that seemed to encompass my entire being. I moaned around the shaft of turgid flesh, and I felt my throat loosen a little bit, enough to draw him deeper into my mouth, into the back of my throat. It felt so fucking good, but then I felt my stomach heave and quickly pulled back, emptied him from my mouth, caught my breath, laughed. This was a dangerous ability, I thought as I let my gag reflex settle. Still, my clit ached. If I compared the two anatomical features, I could see that they were similar; his cock was basically just an oversized clitoris.

"I'm having some trouble staying objective," I admitted breathily as my eyes met his cool blue gaze.

" _You_ are?" he said thickly. I could see his hands gripping the bedcover, and I knew that he was struggling to keep from grabbing me.

"Fuck," I sighed, swallowed. I wanted him inside of me. Practice was over. I eased myself up, and he sat up to meet me, his large, warm hands resting on my shoulders. He pulled me forward, crushed his mouth to mine urgently, and I let him. I opened my lips to him, let him taste himself on my tongue. His cock prodded me, and with my hand around it, I began to guide it between my legs.

"Wait," he gasped, wrapping a firm hand around my wrist to stop me. "You might need more preparation." One look at the substantial phallus in my head, with some quick, loose calculations based on the fact that I couldn't entirely encircle it with one hand, I decided he might have a point.

Before Kylo Ren, I'd had exactly two experiences with heterosexual penetrative sex. Both times had been unremarkable; instructional and under the supervision of a disinterested low-ranking officer. Seven possessed, by far, the biggest cock I'd ever seen. I felt fairly confident that, logistically speaking, it just wouldn't work.

My thoughts were interrupted when he kissed me again. I tensed, startled, and then relaxed and melted into him slightly. He was a good kisser. I might have make a little noise when he pulled away, but my disappointment was allayed when he began to trail his lips downward. Soft, tickling parcels of pleasure pressed moistly into the line of my jaw and below to the sensitive flesh on my neck, where the sensation of contact expanded into shivering waves that traveled down my spine.

He stooped to bring his mouth lower, to the hollow of my throat, and I placed my hands on the back of his neck in effort to keep balance, and also perhaps to urge him onward; I was in no mood to be teased. He took the hint. With strength I continuously appreciated, he flipped our positions so that my back was on the bed. Lowering his mouth, he roused a nipple, laving his wet tongue over it like a warm blanket, the tiny textures of his taste buds caught my every nerve ending, and I had to throw my head back and take a breath for the way his mouth's warmth seemed to melt down along the inside of me until it clustered in my belly. Every movement of his thick tongue made a new muscle in my stomach and chest clench, and then his hands traveled down my sides, firm enough that I knew he wanted to know my shape. I pushed downward on his shoulders.

His heated, wet orifice found mine. He looped his upper arms beneath my thighs, and plunged his tongue between my labia. My position mirrored his original one; resting my upper body on bent elbows, I had the most glorious view of his face buried between my legs. His tongue traced a pattern of visceral poetry into the folds and components of my vulva, and before anytime at all, I felt my senses awaken to everything. In a rush, I felt the wash of energy beneath me at the very edges of my Force perception, and I let the waves of Ilum's concentrated Force energy lick at me without overcoming me entirely. More immediately, I felt Seven's urgent arousal. That was all it took. Three heartbeats later, I came explosively. Without breaking contact, he stopped the movements of his mouth as waves of mindless ecstasy overtook me, and as it passed, I appreciated that he knew when to stop. I took three deep, shuddering breaths and sagged against my elbows.

When I looked down to him, his face was red and small beads of sweat had risen on his forehead. Chewing my lip, I nodded my head upward, motioning for him to proceed. Easily, like a snake gliding through water, he pushed himself forward, wiped his lower face, damp with spit and my own moisture, with the back of an arm. His blue eyes met mine, his breath sweet with my fluids. My heart was pounding. I realized that I was afraid. For all my projected confidence and sexual agency, I was frightened of being hurt in such a delicate place. So much of my power seemed to reside there, or at least the parts of my power that I enjoyed utilizing the most, and so much of my body's senses were focused there.

He seemed to know. He lowered his head, kissed my neck right below my ear, and I realized that my legs were tense. I relaxed them. I relaxed everything. Using one of his hands, he carefully guided himself between my legs, pushed the head of his cock between my lips and held very still. I unclenched my cunt, tilted my hips, pushed into him. Slowly, he moved his pelvis forward, and the round, hard mass of his organ began to slide into me. Sweet ecstasy as every nerve around the entrance to my vagina came into contact with him, stretched around him, invited him into me. I gasped, feeling an echo of the penetration from him; the constricting warmth, the desire to rush, the experience to take it slow. I didn't have that experience. I wrapped my legs around his lower back, my arms around his shoulders, nails digging in, and pulled him with the strength in my thighs.

Sharp, metallic pain electrified me through my core and I cried out, everything tensed. He froze for the space of a breath, and then, through the urgent discomfort, I felt a gentle thumb press on my clit, and move in gentle, slow circles. Slowly, the pain receded, replaced by ripples of warm pleasure. As if with a rising tide, I began to feel the waves lapping at my feet, and my pain was forgotten.

I caught my breath, urged my muscles to relax, and looked Seven in the eye. I nodded, allowed his emotions into me; as he filled my body, his feelings filled my perception. There was lust, yes… but something more, something a little less specific. Contentment. And the sensations… intoxicating. He began moving his hips so that he drew himself out, and then into me, so carefully. His preparations helped immensely. I didn't unlock my ankles. With his thumb moving the delicate folds around my clitoris in firm, precise circles, every penetration washed me with deliciously mounting heat. It was only made more poignant by the peppering of dull pain as my most intimate parts strained to accommodate him.

Soon, he began to move more easily, and the pleasure of the friction far outweighed the discomfort. We kissed, splitting my attention. My breaths were ragged, and I could hear his as well. The pushing and pulling of our bodies moved like the surge and retreat of turbulent waves, and every swell brought with it a further intensifying of the escalating pressure in me. Everything I felt was doubled; from him, I felt the tightening of the pressure in his testicles, the way that the engorged cock between his legs felt impossibly heavy while the rest of him felt light as air and charged with a surge of stamina. I felt that some of that stamina bled into me, sank into my skin like the warmth of the sun, and soon I couldn't differentiate between what I was feeling and what he was.

The waves of power washed over me, and I drew on it, let it infuse me with his vigor. His Force energy flared, filling me. I heard him groan, felt the hot fluid fill me just as I crested the apex of physical satisfaction, at once the receiver and the giver, and I lost any concept of self as I came again in a blaze of light and heat, filled with this intangible sense of joy.

Seven sagged on top of me for a moment, breathing hard. Slowly, he withdrew, and I felt a torrent of warmth pour out of me after him and pool beneath me on his bed. I could do naught but breathe for a long moment. I stole a kiss before he rolled to the side and lay next to me. At that moment, sticky with come and sweat, I felt fucking _amazing_. I felt powerful, as though I could accomplish anything I attempted. With the man still breathing hard next to me, I looked around me in wonder, the lights of his bedroom seemed to glow brighter and bleed together, everything seemed sharper and clearer, the texture of every surface in the room brought into incredible detail.

I'd challenged myself to attain new levels of Force sensitivity, and I had triumphed. In fact, I felt as though I'd been given new life. I wanted to run with glee, do flips, feel the ground move beneath my feet. I was something better than human at that moment. I sat up and when the laughter bubbled up inside of me, I let it pour out, and it echoed around the room. I leaned over Seven, touched his face with my hand. He had a wan smile on his face, but there were circles under his eyes, a pallor to his cheek that had not been there before, and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. He looked… exhausted.

Curious, I reached out with my senses, but I got very little. He was drained. How strange, I thought to myself. Before, he'd been the very epitome of masculine vitality. Now… he yawned, and I could see that he was struggling to keep his eyes open, even as he seemed to want to look at me.

"I might need a moment," he said, his voice hoarse. "I guess I'm more tired than I realized."

"Certainly. Perhaps you should retire for the evening," I said, resting a hand on his chest. Weakly, he covered it with his own, squeezed, let it lay there heavily. "You've been an excellent subject." I grinned.

"Glad to be of service."

I stood up easily, crossed the room, and grabbed some towels from within his small refresher, and began cleaning myself. I threw him one as well. His reaction slowed, he accepted it and began to towel himself off. He seemed to be unaware that I was watching him, but in truth, I was not finished studying him and considering my experiences. I'd felt what he was feeling, and then something else happened… when he came, I felt that it wasn't only his ejaculate or his pleasure that filled me, it was _him_. Or whatever it was that gave him life. I closed my eyes and welcomed the Darksight. I could see his life force now. It moved through him as it did through all living things, but in the man before me, it seemed dimmer, as if a thin shroud had been cast over him. I walked toward the pile of my clothes on the floor. Even now, worn as he was, I could see the desire in his eyes as he looked at me and in the small smile. I dressed myself.

"If you ever need a research assistant again. Or if you just want a good time, I'm at your service," he said with some humor. I smiled.

"It was a pleasure, truly."

"The pleasure was all mine," he answered. I don't know about that, I thought to myself. He nodded to me, moved as if to stand up, to walk me out. I felt as though I'd been drinking concentrated caff, and my body almost vibrated with contained vigor. I raised a hand to stop him before showing myself out. Before I left, I saw his body sink back onto his bed.

I ended up staying awake all night, practicing my stances and my combat maneuvers with my vibroblades in hand, still sheathed. After that, I showered, and dove into my reading with great enthusiasm.

It wasn't until much later, when the infusion of power began to fade, that I felt how sore I was in the raw ache between my legs. Inevitably, my own weariness caught up to me. The sun was beginning to rise. I began to prepare for sleep, but before I did, a message from Hux arrived. Apparently the item which we had discussed was ready. I instructed him to have it sent to my quarters. I wanted to get a feel for it before I used it on him. And then, as if a power cord had been pulled, I crashed.


	32. Of Pleasure and Pain

I was soaring through white space, silent and moving at incredible speed, with no sense of self or place. I observed as the whiteness adjusted so that I could discern shapes as they materialized in the blank void; hills, trees, and valleys which approached rapidly and then fell behind just as quickly as I passed over the surface of a snowy landscape. There was a sound, like the clear, musical tone of a wind instrument, high and sweet, calling from a great distance, and I knew that its source was where I was headed now. My destination was fast approaching, and my anxiety mounted as I both feared and longed for whatever it was that was pulling me toward it now.

Far ahead, a chip of black was cut into the white, rocky mountainside. A cave. The singing was growing louder and sharper in my head, but it was changing. It was becoming a jarring, jangling, discordant tone that was beginning to set my teeth on edge. With a momentum that I could not hope to slow, I hurtled toward the cave… and then out the other side into a world of red flashing light. Now I was running.

My mind was vacant from panic as I raced through the halls of the base, whipping by figures that were in chaos moving in every direction at once and all talking at once. Even as I had no idea what I was doing here, I knew that I had a singular goal to run and a singular motivator spurring me onward. Death was coming.

I shoved past a few that blocked my path without so much as an apology as if a spectral incarnation of death itself were on my heels. There was no time for manners, and everyone was too busy thinking about themselves to notice. Officers and soldiers alike were shoving past me in the other direction. Straight ahead was the door leading to the slave access corridors, and I darted through it to enter them, knowing this to be a short cut. The hallway was quiet by comparison, and the silence was far more eerie than the noise outside of them. It meant that the slaves that had not already fled were resigned to die. I didn't know how I knew this, nor did I question it: it was as though my body were being driven by an invisible operator. What was happening, and why couldn't I remember what had led up to this? Why couldn't I remember the past hour? Day? Week? Red warning lights were flashing in the halls, and an alarm was sounding from all directions at once, dissonant and sharp in my ears. I was looking for someone. Where were they?

I exited the access hall on level 24-D and immediately there was a rush of heat and I fell back, blinded and in agonizing pain as I was consumed in flame, unable, even, to scream as my flesh sizzled and blackened and split.

I shot up in bed, sending my covers away from me in disarray, a silent scream frozen on my mouth. Before I knew what I was doing, I was leaping out of bed to run… somewhere. My heart was pounding, and I was damp with sweat as I spun around in my place in a blind panic. But there were no alarms, there was no fire, and there was no pain.

Lights gradually rose from darkness, illuminating my room in a gentle glow, and I remembered where I was. I was in my quarters. There was silence but for my own ragged breaths. I leaned against the wall, shaking so badly that I thought I might collapse.

It was 15:34h, according to the Basetime wall display next to the refresher door, and I'd slept most of the day. It took perhaps the better half of an hour sitting in front of the window and looking out into the snowy wastes before I could get my hand to stop quaking. I closed my eyes, soothed by the different presence that the world assumed when I used the Force to observe it. My nerves began to settle and the sensory details of the nightmare that had woken me began to fade. All I could remember was running from something… or had I been flying toward it? It was confusing to try and sort it out, as the logic of the dream world no longer applied now that I was awake.

I did remember, however, the cave. Amidst all the confusion and chaos, there was a path etched into my memory. If it existed, I felt sure that I could find that cave again. At least, I knew that I would be able to retrace the path of my impossible flight as surely as if I had actually been there. Quickly, I went to my terminal and began to write all that I could remember, though it was difficult to put the feelings to words. Of course, as I reread my words, I was dubious. _Toward the night, through the spine, into the cleft,_ none of the directions made any sense. I nearly deleted it.

Instead, I closed the window and I used the maintenance request system to order a couple of astromechs to come and make some minor modifications to the main room of my quarters; some minor hardware installations. I needed to take the edge off, and the method I felt would be most effective involved turning that edge toward someone else. There was already a package waiting for me outside my door, according to the security system, and when I received it, I opened it immediately to find that it was the item I'd told Hux to send to my room. I set it aside when the droids arrived and, according to my specifications, they set to work.

If all went according to plan, and I felt that it would, everything would be ready by nightfall. I sent a message to General Hux to clear his schedule, if possible. He answered almost immediately with a confirmation.

* * *

When he arrived to my quarters, there was something thrilling about him being within my personal space. He was still in full dress, but after I greeted him, he proceeded to strip down to his shirt, breeches, and boots. Each item removed was hung carefully in my clothing storage locker where it wouldn't get wrinkled. I offered him some hotcaff and after we both had a warm mug, I invited him to sit with me in my living area. He briefly examined my plants (all thriving to the point where the Wandering Needler hanging in a pot next to the picture window had spilled over the side and now draped next to the window's border nearly to the floor) and took a seat across from me, one leg crossed over the other.

"Did you receive the device?" He asked casually after taking a delicate sip of his drink, the handle of the cup held in one elegant, white hand. His face was handsome and put together; I saw no trace of the tiredness that had settled into his features in recent memory. His light-colored eyes, which took on a greenish hue in this lighting, were alert, somehow brightened by a fringe of pale lashes. His red hair was combed impeccably in its usual style. Perfectly trimmed sideburns framed the cheekbones, beneath which existed a gently severe concavity. His straight nose, softened by a rounded tip, overshadowed the soft line of his pink lips. Even now, with an expression of neutrality, there was the hint of a sneer on the right corner of that mouth, one that I was sure by now was a permanent feature. I had to admit that I'd actually missed him a little bit while I was away, in the few idle moments I'd had from Kylo Ren's affections and my rigorous training schedule.

"I did. Tested it, too," I replied with a small smile. He looked at me unblinkingly with his pale eyes for a moment, the cup suspended halfway between his lap and his mouth. "And?"

"I think you'll find it satisfactory," I replied. The modified vibroblade generator functioned well at all settings, though the highest was fairly strong. With a gradual increase in power, however, I didn't think it'd be an issue. A remote receiver was also installed, so it could be adjusted while in use.

He nodded, brought the cup slowly to his lips and drank. His relaxed poise had not changed, but with my senses awakened to his emotional state, I felt the slight quaver in his calm. What I had learned from Seven would prove invaluable to my plans with Hux. He'd done a great service to his commanding general whether he realized it or not. Perhaps, in some small way (or large depending on the metric), he'd even helped the Order.

"We need to discuss the terms of our relationship," I stated plainly, leaning back in my chair and casually crossing my legs.

"Does it warrant discussion?" He asked, his eyes glinting. I knew he was eager to give me full authority over him, but I was less sure. I wanted to fuck him, make him beg, make him into my plaything. I didn't want to destroy him, at least not irreparably.

"I need to know that you want it, at every point, as much as I do. I need to know that if you change your mind, you will tell me. Because otherwise I'm not going to stop."

"Maybe I don't want you to stop."

"Be that as it may," I said quickly to quell the thrill of excitement his words inspired in me. "This is not negotiable."

He thought this over for a moment, and I saw him chew the inside of his lip, pursing them slightly and my thoughts wandered for half a second as I pictured what I could do with that soft mouth. He nodded.

"I want you to think of a word," I said, conveying the absolute nature of my wishes in my tone. "If you say this word, I will stop whatever it is I'm doing immediately. It needs to be something you will never say accidentally."

"How about 'Ewok.'" he said after a moment of thought. I snorted.

"That works. Of course, if your mouth is otherwise indisposed, a double tap of your fingers or feet will suffice." I could sense the excitement in him, and it was contagious. I was pretty sure that I intended to keep his mouth 'indisposed' at least part of the time. "I want you to promise me that you will do these things."

He looked at me curiously over his cup. Took a small sip. "You have my word." I smiled at him warmly and I felt in him another spike of excitement. The feeling seemed to bleed into me and my heart beat just a little harder.

I waited until he finished his coffee. Until he was ready. "From this point on, you will address me as Sir."

"Yes, Sir," he responded promptly, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

I made him strip and get on his knees. Using a booted foot rested on the back of his neck, I pushed him forward so that his back was bent, his cheek to the floor, and I let my foot stay there. I could see the way his spine stood out, and despite myself I rather liked the way he looked now. Without his regular exercise routine to maintain his muscle mass, he looked so slender, so fragile, so… domitable. Even though I knew that he would likely still be a capable fighter if he needed. I told him not to move. And then I left the room to change.

When I reentered, he was in the same position, his cheek to the floor so that his face was turned toward me. I let him see me now. I still wore my boots, but I'd changed out of my day wear and into something more intimidating. It had the desired effect; in Hux's upturned face, I detected apprehension. The reason was clear. I was wearing my knee-height boots in black leather, opaque red stockings that ended just above my knees. On my shoulders I had donned a black shrug with elbow-length sleeves, an open front and high back, and black gloves. I was naked from the stockings to the shrug. My face, beneath a black mesh hood, was completely obscured to him, an accessory I had decided to try out. I could see him clearly through the mesh, but to him, all that was visible were the vague outlines of my features. The overall effect was at once alluring and frightening. It perfectly reflected my current mood.

Then his eyes fell to what I held in my hand and I could see his pale face lose ever more color. I knew he would recognize it well: a black metal collar, lined with short, dull points around the circumference of the interior meant to deliver jolts of electric shock. It was identical to what he had made me and the other slave girl wear. I threw it down, and it landed heavily on the floor in front of him.

"Put it on." Slowly, he reached for it, grasped it, and straightened his back so that he knelt, looking at it in his hands. I could tell that he was mulling it over. He moved too slowly for my tastes. I let my wrath pool in my hands, heavy and prickling, and then with a small gesture, I whipped him with it. He jerked, almost dropped the collar. "You should thank me. I have given you a gift."

His eyes moved to my face, though he could see nothing of my expression. "Thank you, Sir," he said carefully. He brought it to his long, white neck uncertainly, clasped it shut until the mechanism slid into place. The sight of General Hux kneeling on the floor naked, wearing a collar was nearly enough to cause me to drop the act. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to push his face back onto the floor and fuck him with my new toy. I would in due time. I wanted to test his limits first.

With the collar on, I knew he couldn't comfortably turn his head, and now his face was fixed straight ahead. Everything in his body was tense, from the long, straight line of his back, to the bunched muscles at his shoulders. I could see his long-fingered hands grasping his knees so firmly that the color bled out of his fingertips. I walked around so that I stood in front of him. I looked down at him. His eyes were fixed somewhere around my bare groin. I saw the collar move as he swallowed. I sank into a crouch, my knees spread apart, so that we were nearly face to face. I brought a gentle hand to his face, paused for a second before touching, let him stiffen, and then I caressed his cheek gently. The material of my gloves was smooth, and it slid across his skin like silk. He started to tilt into my palm, but stopped as the collar bit into his skin. Still, his eyes fluttered closed.

I drew my hands down his face, to his jaw, and rested my fingers lightly on the collar. I hooked them around its edge, then jerked it forward eliciting a pained grunt, before pressing his soft lips to mine through the mesh of my face cover. I had never kissed him before; the contact was too intimate, I felt, to maintain the kind of dynamic we had. However, with my face covered, I felt like someone, or something, else. Immune to attachment. The material gave little obstruction; it was rough, but I could taste his mouth, and after a moment, he opened his lips to me. In the moment of the kiss, despite the pain of his collar digging into the back of his neck, the tension in his shoulders started to loosen as his upper arms rolled forward limply, his hands relaxed their grip on his knees and he pushed himself forward, desperate for more contact, however obscured. I pulled away, noted with some satisfaction that his cock, limp until now with fear or nerves, was stirring.

I rose to a standing position. I walked over to the counter in my kitchen area. He had not noticed until now the implements I'd prepared ahead of receiving him, but now he looked, turning his entire upper body to keep his neck straight.

Upon the counter, most prominently, was the device we'd designed together. There was a leather harness sitting next to it, with a strap each for my thighs and my waist, all of which converged in the center around a metal O-ring which, when worn, would be positioned in front. The phallus itself sat next to it, upright. It was made of black duratex- a nonporous, neutrally inert substance that was firm but had some flex and give. It was thirteen Imperial centimeters in length, rather average when compared to a human cock, but its circumference was a concerning seventeen centimeters, or about the circumference of my wrist. I had been very particular about the dimensions of it. I did not move toward these items just yet. Instead, I reached for one of the things laying on the surface beside them. I'd carefully lain everything out neatly. From his vantage point, he couldn't see, but he didn't need to. I knew his eyes were still on the phallus. When I turned back toward him, I held in my hand a riding crop – a flexible stick wrapped in leather with a braided end.

"I thought it would be smaller," he said, his voice low and thick with tension. I _might_ have made some adjustments to the phallus without consulting him. I didn't answer him. I walked over to him and dragged the braided tip of the crop along his jawline, over the collar, to his shoulders and, circling around him slowly, to his back. Without warning, I flicked my wrist and struck him between the shoulder blades. He jerked forward slightly.

I struck him again in the same place, and this time he made a small noise. Satisfied, I lowered myself into a crouch behind him, dragging a clawed hand down his back to his rear where I viciously gripped a buttock, leaned forward so that my mouth was at his ear.

"Don't worry, General... by the time I'm ready to use it, you'll be begging for it," I hissed, sending a Force jolt of visceral lust through him. His eyes rolled back in his head, lost in the sensation for a moment. I stood again, struck him on the back, cutting his moment short. The crop left a pink welt where it made contact. I felt my breath quicken at the sight of it, and at the sight of him trying to hold perfectly still so that the collar wouldn't dig into his skin. Four more times I struck him, only growing more bloodthirsty with each connection to his upper back, shoulders, and buttocks. I was only satisfied when he fell forward on his elbows, gasping, straining to keep his neck straight.

I paused to catch my own breath; it had been so easy to inflict pain on him, and even now I wanted more. Though the details had faded, my nightmare of fire and chaos seemed to sit heavily on me. It had left me with an unpleasant sense of pressure in my chest, which I knew could only be relieved through sadistic means. I drew in a deep breath.

"Do you want me to remove your collar" I asked, watching him. For a moment, he only breathed. Slowly he pushed his upper body upright once more. His lips were wet with spit and his cheeks were beginning to take on some color. His hair was falling out of its neat arrangement.

"I am grateful for your gift," he answered, staring blankly ahead. His cock was soft again. I moved the tip of the riding crop down his front, over his stomach, where it stopped just beneath his navel. A small shiver went through him.

"Clever boy, you didn't answer my question," I said with a small smile. He couldn't see it, but I knew he could hear it. He swallowed, the collar bobbed. I could tell that he was paralyzed with indecision, could see, without Force empathy, the conflict inside of him.

"Whatever Sir desires, I obey," he answered finally. Good answer, I thought. I rewarded him by gently caressing the delicate flesh of his limp penis with the end of the riding crop. His stomach muscles clenched, his lids fluttered closed as he both savored the crop's contact and feared the pain it could inflict. Tenderly, I touched him, stroked him with the instrument until his body loosened and the organ began to stir again. I slipped it underneath where I lightly caressed his naked testicles. When he was at half mast, I moved the crop upward again until I touched the side of his face.

"Suck it."

He rotated his torso to turn his face toward the riding crop, and with nimble lips, pulled it into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, breathing hard through his nostrils as he nursed it like a babe at a breast, so intent and enthusiastic. I felt a stirring between my legs. I pulled the crop out of his mouth, squatted down, and, cupped his cheek with one gloved palm, wanting to be closer to touching that mouth. Without missing a beat, he turned his face to the side and took my index and middle fingers between his lips. Immediately his saliva soaked through the fabric, but I didn't care. I was too distracted by the wet heat of the inside of his mouth, the roiling tongue that swirled around my fingers and slipped between them, the gentle suction behind the seal of his lips and the obscene sucking noise that it made. My pulse began to race, and a throbbing warmth blossomed between my legs.

Demure green eyes, previously downcast in concentration, looked up toward my face from beneath straight red brows. My breath caught in my throat as I read the wordless message communicated through that look. Fire flared in my chest, and I suddenly gripped his lower jaw, hooking my two fingers downward into the soft skin underneath his tongue while my thumb dug into the hollow at the apex of his jawbone. He froze, his entire body in suspense, focused on the hand that held him in place. His eyes didn't move from me, though they were now wide with fear. I let him go, wiping spit-soaked fingers on his smooth chest. My warning was plain: don't forget who is in control here.

"Comfortable?" I asked lightly.

"Yes, Sir."

"Let's see what we can do about that," I said. I moved back toward the tools I'd laid out. The black phallus still stood there, a monolith upon the countertop. It was too soon, I knew. Instead of the phallus, I reached for a coil of soft rope. I walked back to him.

On the floor on front of his knees was a panel, a hinged door that he likely hadn't noticed; the door was the same color and material as my floor, and it contained one of the small modifications that I'd assigned to the droids. I tapped it with my foot and the pressure release hinge popped open the door. A small square hole was inset into the floor beneath. In this hole, a large metal O-ring had been installed.

I knelt in front of him, knowing that every time I did so, he became painfully aware of his proximity to my exposed cunt. His cock stirred. I ignored it. I gathered his wrists in my hands and, using the rope, began to weave a cuff around one wrist in a fixed knot. I let out a length of rope perhaps two feet long, slipped through the O-ring, and then used the other end of the rope to tie his other wrist. He was tethered to the floor now, but I'd granted him enough slack that he could remain upright on his knees.

"Hands and knees," I said. He did so, bringing his perfect, white ass into clear view. I could see the marks where I'd grabbed him. While the rest of him was hard and a little wiry, angles and bends of his bones by the curve of his muscles, those cheeks were plump and luscious. I could see without examining too closely that his habitual body hair removal was most thorough. My jaw itched and I had to fight the sudden urge to bite him on one milky white buttock.

"Tell me, General, who is your master?" I asked, knowing full well what his answer would have to be. I immediately sensed the conflict. I was only playing, of course, but I would enjoy making him struggle internally. His head turned slightly, stiffly, to look back at me, though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me.

"My first loyalty is with the Supreme Leader, of course," he said, his voice uncertain. I couldn't read his mind, but I knew that he was unsure. Was this sex play or was it treason?

"In here, General, _I_ am your master."

"Truly, Riala, you don't expect me to renounce-" he started, but I moved quickly and hit him with the flat of my palm against one rear cheek, interrupting him and making him rock forward slightly. The material of my glove prevented the pleasing pop that would usually accompany such a strike, but it left a pink spot sure enough. It was as if the breath had been sucked out of the room. I watched his face. His cool demeanor wavered as thoughts raced behind his green eyes.

"You will address me as _Sir_ , slut."

"Yes, Sir," he said quietly. I wondered if he were wise enough to know that the safety word would work in this situation as well. All he had to do was say the word 'Ewok' and I would stop this line of punishment.

"You are at my mercy. Thus far I have been merciful," I reminded him, gently drawing my hand across his skin where I'd just struck him. I didn't miss how he subtly pushed back onto my hand. He was enjoying this. "Tell me who your master is, General."

"Lord Snoke," he answered. I smacked him again, hard enough that my hand stung, and he grunted. I shook it out to relieve the pins and needles before I hit him again.

"Who is your master?" I asked him, and his answer was the same, as was his punishment for it. I hit him, and he held fast, even as his back arched subtly to pull away from me, and his head dropped toward the floor, suspended by his neck. Every time my hand impacted, it was jarred to the bones.

"You can make this stop any time," I said, my voice calm even though I could hear my own breathlessness in the words.

"I will not," he replied tensely. My brows rose.

"As you wish." I said. I cracked my knuckles. Started again, even, rhythmic strikes, now. The smacks echoed in the room, a percussive drill, punctuated by tiny grunts and chuffs from Hux.

After fifteen minutes, my hand was becoming numb, and his pale skin was turning redder. Tentatively, I monitored his emotional state, trying to keep from dipping my perception in so far as to share his physical pain. He was excited and tense, as I might have gathered from his words and body language. There was no indication that I had crossed a line. Not yet.

After thirty minutes, I'd stopped feeling the impact. His ass was marred with bruising. But somewhere around the hundredth time that I hit him, he stopped crying out. He moaned, arched his back down toward the floor now, held himself toward me. I probed him with my Force-empathy. I noted with some interest that the pain of the spanking had lessened somehow. I suspected that it was a physiological response to ongoing pain.

His entire body was tingling, I noticed first. His emotions were blended, confused, but all tended toward a strange sense of… happiness and want. He was enjoying everything I did to him. I suspected that he might not use his safety word after all. This could be dangerous. I took a deep breath as I massaged the feeling back into the hand that I'd been using to spank him. Force help me, I didn't want to stop, but this wasn't effective anymore. I climbed to my feet, noticing with some interest that my legs were stiff from the position I'd been holding, though I hadn't even noticed while I was marring that beautiful ass of his. I also noted with some interest that I was slick between my legs.

I would break him. Up to this point, I'd resisted the urge to use the Force to cause him pain, but it seemed that simple physical pain was not enough. I paused for a moment to gather myself, to sort out my own feelings so that I would draw power from the correct source. I drew the tendril of wrath from my chest, down my arm as if it followed the trail of my veins, into my hand where it pooled. The numbness began to fade, replaced by a sort of itching in my fingers and palm. I flexed my knuckles, clenched my fist to alleviate it.

"Who is your master, General?"

"Supreme Leader Sn—" I struck him again, but this time the contact was spiked with wrath, its result was pain that his endorphine-drenched body would not be able to buffer. His words turned into a raw cry. I paused for a moment, struck him again, he cried out, and his arms began to buckle. He was leaning forward, ever so slightly, away from me. I raised my hand, ready to strike him again.

"You are my master," he moaned, his voice raw. " _You are, Sir_." He was panting, his head hanging low. He seemed oblivious to the way that the edge of the collar cut into his neck. He would have marks there, I mused as I pulled myself back into a standing position. I let the wrath dissipate, and gently, I stroked his back. He flinched at first, but when he realized that there was no pain in my touch, he relaxed, sagging around the middle.

"General," I said, my voice rough, a reflection of my inner state. I was tired, and my arm was sore to the shoulder, but still, I was surprised at how quickly the time had passed. "At ease."

Slowly, his ass lowered to the floor and he pushed himself into a shaky kneeling position. It was only now that I saw his face. His red hair had fallen completely forward in front of his eyes, which were brightly fixed on me. Gone was the stiff formality. His breaths were deep, his cheeks flushed. He seemed… utterly relaxed and undone. I needed a break, even if he didn't. I went to the kitchen area, got us both cups of water, and then returned. I put his on the floor in front of him.

"Drink." It was an order. Slowly, he picked up the water, began to sip. His hand was shaking, and he spilled some down his chin. He coughed and I moved to crouch next to him, a handkerchief in my hand, and I dabbed at his chin. Slowly, I grabbed the mesh veil covering my face, lifted it off, and set it aside, and he watched me, the pulse in his throat making the collar jump ever so subtly. He took small sips of the water between breaths, and I tenderly stroked his cheek, his hair. I could sense a definite change in the air between us. He had, despite his loyalty to the Order and Snoke, called me his master. I wasn't worried anymore about dispelling the illusion of my dominance over him. Even if it were only an illusion, one that would give way to reality once he put that uniform back on, here it was very real. I waited for him to finish drinking and took the glass away. I set them both on the counter, walked back out to the main room.

I turned toward the sitting area in front of the picture window. Outside, the snowy landscapes were turning pink and orange as the sun began to set over this side of the base. The shadows of the forest were stretching long, and I was lost for a moment, gone in the vivid imagery of that landscape flying away beneath me as I moved toward a mysterious destination.

"It's lovely isn't it?" I said with a sigh, speaking to no one in particular.

"My view is better." His voice brought me back to the present. I turned around, tilted my head and smirked subtly at the general, who had a wicked gleam in his eyes. I marveled at the sight of him kneeling there, so prim and proper, hands resting on his knees. The rope cuffs I'd given him looked lovely on him, as did the collar. He reached up and raked his hands back through his red hair in attempt to smooth it out of his face, though he had to bow his back to reach.

"You've been a good boy," I told him. I thought I detected a subtle hint of pride in his expression. Bending over slightly, I grabbed the arm of the sitting chair. It slid easily across the floor as I brought it toward him and stopped a few feet in front. I sat forward in it and spread my knees. His attention was focused right there. His cock twitched, stiffened. "Show me your devotion with your tongue."

He didn't need more instruction. He moved as far forward as the rope tether would allow, and then, finding that the length was too short to allow him to rest comfortably on his hands and knees, he sat forward, hands between his thighs to allow for more slack, the two halves of the rope tether beneath him and behind him between his feet. I tilted my pelvis back so he could access me better. The handsome officer delicately darted his tongue out, brushed my labia, sent a shiver through me.

"Don't test my patience, unless you want me to punish you," I warned. I suspected that the numbness had begun to fade, and that the bruises were starting to hurt in earnest. It was enough to encourage him to throw his enthusiasm into it. Straining his neck as far as he could, he buried his face into my groin. His sideburns tickled my inner thighs and I sighed, felt my eyes flutter back in my head, felt the warmth of his mouth between my labia. His tongue flicked and purled in long strokes, his eyes clenched shut, his brows tensed intently. The sight was sensational, but it was the gilding on top of the pleasure; his smooth, pale face was like silk against my inner thighs, his tongue was thick and wet and firm and _thirsty,_ like velvet against the delicate flesh of my vulva. He had gotten _good_ at this. My chest welled and I breathed deep, exhaled in a long, smooth sigh, breathed in again to catch my breath.

"Oh my pet," I sighed, sliding my gloved hands down my thighs, and then combing my fingers through his hair, black fabric of my gloves stark against the creamy white of his skin and the red hue of his locks. Waves of heat were spreading outward, filling that pool deep in my belly. Two men in as many days, I thought with a smug grin even as I bit my lip. I was still sore from Seven's generous endowments, but Hux was making me forget it in a rush of blood to the area. A wicked thought came to me.

"How does it feel to know that another man's cock was right where your mouth is not, not even 24 hours ago?" He faltered and I gripped his hair in two fists, forced his head tight between my legs, sealing his nose almost completely against my skin. "He left me a little sore, General. Make me feel better and I might reward you," I said with malicious delight. He was breathing hard through his nose, his shoulders pulled forward past the point of comfort by the rope tether between his legs. As if he'd never hesitated, he began to lap at me, pointed tongue dipping into my opening, firm tip following every texture and contour of the skin there. Obviously he didn't care. I loosened my grip on his head and he pulled back just enough that that he could breathe more easily.

His ministrations were actually doing their job fairly effectively. Lips came together and pursed, capturing my clit he darted his tongue out and flicked it, and I shuddered, feeling a tightness in my lower back that made me want to arch forward. His head tilted this way and that as he sought better angles, jaw working as he captured every delicate fold in the movements of his lips and tongue. If anything, it seemed that he only became more enthusiastic with the knowledge that I'd slept with another man so recently. Dirty boy. His tongue slipped into my cunt again, as far as it could go, and I groaned despite myself, grinding my hips as I let him fuck me with it. His jaw was open wide, he brushed my clit with his upper lip without breaking the penetration and I jerked. The heat began to grow until it was enveloping the nerve endings in the stretch between my clit and orifice, consuming them in delicious ripples. My eyes closed and rolled back in my skull as I began to lose myself.

I heard him groan into me, the vibrations zeroing in on my nerve center. It was as if he felt it. On some level I was aware that I had not gifted him with my pleasure this time. Surely it wasn't _that_ enjoyable. I probed his feelings as he probed me with his tongue, and I realized that his cock was rock hard, and he was touching it.

"Bad boy, General," I scolded without stopping him. I heard the movements of his hand as he beat himself off furiously. "I didn't say you could touch your cock." His hand slowed. Stopped. His eyes were on me from between my legs now, his licking tentative. I leaned forward, touched his collar, slipped my finger under the back of it, pulled on it slightly. He made a choking noise and resumed lapping at my cunt with renewed fervor after a moment. I let him go.

"Make me come and I'll reward you ," I murmured, looking down at him with hooded eyes. I wasn't sure he knew what I meant, but he abandoned himself completely at that moment to fulfilling his task, and before long, I felt the muscles in my lower body begin to tighten one by one, soft, appreciative noises came from my throat. I could feel his erection straining, but there was no relief for it now.

His tongue batted my clit from side to side, and he alternated between that and plunging it into me. The mixture of sensations began to compound on one another and multiply with the heat and the tightness in my spine. A trembling began and I felt my hips move slightly of their own volition, pressing and receding with the rhythm of his dexterous mouth. I began to lose the ability to tell the different movements apart, the entire area a throbbing, aching, swirling center of ecstasy. Suddenly, I felt myself climb, crest, and then plummet into a downward spiral of explosive pleasure and my world became obscured behind a haze of white hot energy. I had the presence of mind to keep the ecstasy to myself; I didn't want him to come, not yet.

As the waves receded, I curved forward, his face in my hand, and sealed his wet mouth in a kiss, savoring the mingle of his saliva and myself in his mouth. He moaned throatily into me, pummeling my tongue with his it as eagerly as he had my cunt. I broke the kiss, pushed him away.

I stood up, shoved the chair I had been sitting in behind me with one booted foot, and then walked to the counter where the device and the harness were waiting. After a moment of mulling, I picked up the harness and began to carefully slide the thigh straps over my boots and up until they sat just at the crease between my groin and my upper thighs. The waist strap was unfastened and I wrapped it around myself now, slipped it through the buckle, tightened it. Hux gulped and I glanced toward him. Fear was in his eyes again. I stood there for a moment to let my Force senses reach toward him delicately, as if to sample the barest taste of a delectable dish. I could sense his fear, yes… his heart was racing. Still, I sensed a hint of something beyond the fear. Excitement. I slid the black duratex tool through the O-ring in the center of the harness, snapped the black leather triangle backing into place, securing the base of the phallus from behind and turned back toward him. His cock was red and protruded plainly in front of him, but now I sensed his trepidation as he stared at my own artificial organ poised obscenely in front of me.

"Do you want your reward?" I asked, grinning savagely. My heart was pounding. He nodded quickly.

"Yes, Sir," he said, but I could hear the fear in his voice. On the counter were two small remotes. I picked up one of them and pressed the button in the center of it. There was a small metallic click as the lock on his collar disengaged. I replaced the remote, picking up the other instead, and walked over to him. Bending over, the phallus at level with his face, I opened it at the hinges, pulling it away. The skin of his neck and throat was red and irritated and I felt a minor pang of guilt. Though I had not used the shock function, there was a neat row of dots encircling it where the shock collar's spikes had dug into him. Red lines marked where the edges of the metal collar had dug into his skin, as he'd moved his neck. I would have to tend to that later. For now, his relief was obvious. He brought a hand up and rubbed the side of his neck, sighing. I brought the collar to the counter top and, tucking the second remote into the waist strap of the harness, I picked up a tube of lubricant, tucked that in as well. As an afterthought, I also grabbed two black, waterproof elastex gloves from their box. I moved back in front of him. I was feeling vindictive.

"You obviously have no issue with putting your mouth where another man has been," I said lightly, studying his face. "Show me how well you suck cock." His greenish blue eyes flickered up to mine, watching me boldly as he leaned forward, opened his pink lips, and then encompassed the black glossy tip with his mouth. He tightened his lips into an O. I sighed appreciatively at the sight. I couldn't feel it, but he looked good with a cock in his mouth, and he seemed comfortable with it. A nasty pang of desire flared in my chest as an impossible fantasy came back into my thoughts.

The fact was, the dimensions of the phallus that I had chosen were very specific, though he didn't seem to know. I couldn't be surprised. It had likely been so long ago since he and Kylo Ren had been sexually involved with one another, so it stood to reason that he wouldn't necessarily remember the dimensions of the other man's cock. As an inside joke to myself, I'd chosen to replicate Kylo Ren's member as well as I could from what I could remember, and the result was fairly accurate. The Knight of Ren had a thick cock, and I wanted to see it stretching the General in a place that had once known the shape of the man it emulated. If I couldn't see them together, this was the next best thing. On some level I knew that it was rather sick to take such pleasure in something that might cause Hux emotional distress, but I didn't care. I think the fact that there was the hint of some lingering feelings only motivated me further. I had a bit of a cruel streak when it came to him, and I felt that that was partly why our relationship worked so well.

General Hux's lips worked, drawing the phallus in as far as it could go before pulling back, his face tense as he focused. He was definitely enjoying it. Did he recognize the shape, even subconsciously? I started to move my hips forward, drawing the length of it out of his tight lips and then back in, admiring how his jaw shifted to accommodate it, how it made the hollows of his cheeks stand out. I pulled it out, loved the way his mouth quested after it when I did.

"You're ready for me aren't you?" I asked. He was panting. His eyes dropped to the phallus and he swallowed again, hard. A flash of fear gave me a thrill, but then I could sense that he wanted it.

I left the room for a moment and returned with a pillow in my hand. I tossed it on the floor behind him and knelt down on it, comfortable. Without the collar, he could turn his head more easily, and he did so now, watching me. I took the tube of lubricant out of the waist strap of the harness. I bit my lip as I looked at him from this point of view. He was so vulnerable. His white ass was red and beginning to show the bruising. Poor thing.

I began to stroke him gently, as if to soothe an animal. I followed the contours of his round ass, down below to where his balls and cock hung heavily. No man could stay erect forever, and as I'd seen, General Hux's erections had ebbed and flowed. Now, he was starting to go limp again, likely from the stress of anticipation.

"Do you remember what you said to me the first night we met?" I asked, my gloved fingers tracing a swirling trail around the apex of his buttocks, reigniting the raw nerve endings there.

"I said and did many things I regret," he answered quickly. I smiled.

"You said that you would not debase yourself to fuck a slave. Do you remember that?" A trembling began in his thighs and his straight, level back. "You're my slave now, General. And I am not so cruel. I _will_ fuck you, but only if you beg me."

"Do you want me to beg you?" His voice was nervous, his eyes darting quickly from the side as he tried to see me without moving his position. I shrugged, though he couldn't see it, continued stroking the bruises on his ass.

"Only if you want it." I let him think about it. But while I did, I opened the tube of lubricant, a clear, viscous liquid, and, holding it over his crack, I squeezed out a blob. It was cold, I knew, and he flinched at its contact.

"Please, Sir," he said, his voice breaking. "Please fuck me." I peeled off my fabric gloves, and slipped the elastex ones over my hands instead, snapping the thin, stretchy rubbery material for effect.

"I'm not convinced you mean it," I said, before dipping my fingers into that blob and smearing it down the cleft of his buttocks, slipping between them. "I think you're just telling me what I want to hear. And while that is usually what I would expect, in this case I want you to mean it." I heard him sigh as my fingers, slick with lubricant, brushed over the tight hole set deep between his cheeks. I distributed the lubricant throughout the area, paying some attention to his testicles, gently rubbing the smooth, hairless underside of his scrotum before moving back up to that orifice. Curious, I reached for his nerve endings with my Force perception, and after a moment, I felt the sensation of my slick fingers swirling around there and made a small, involuntary noise in my throat as the sensitive nerves there reacted to my delicate caresses. I clenched my lower muscles at the same time as he did.

"Oh that does feel nice, doesn't it?" I murmured to myself, lost in the sensations of his experiences as I swirled around that puckered orifice. I felt the throbbing heat begin to grow in my cunt.

"Please," he groaned throatily. I could tell that he meant it now. "Please, Sir. _Please fuck me_."

"Oh General," I breathed, unable to keep the smile from my face. "I am more than happy to oblige."

Tentatively, I dipped a slick finger into the orifice and Hux's entire body shuddered in response, his back arched away from the floor as his stomach muscles clenched. I slipped it back out, swirled it around the rim, and then back into him while palming his ass cheek, milky white with splotches of purple and red bruising, with my other hand. I tried to keep myself from getting lost in his feelings even as I enjoyed them myself. At the moment, I was trying to find the right balance between maintaining control and enjoying what Hux was feeling. Slowly, I felt his tension melt away. His breaths came more quickly. My finger was nothing compared to the girth of my new toy, I knew, so I felt obligated to prepare him a little more.

I slipped my finger back into him, up to the third knuckle, felt a curious bump inside of him, stroked it. We both groaned simultaneously, myself as a wave of heat washed over me. In my preparations, I'd done some minor research into human anatomy. The prostate, connected to the base of the cock, could be accessed inside the rectum, and that magical button was what made anal sex so enjoyable for the receiving party, assuming they were possessing of the correct anatomy. I slipped my finger out, swirled it around the rim, and then plunged two fingers into his asshole.

I did this repeatedly, each time I made sure to acknowledge that magical sensory organ inside of him, stroking it deliberately and enjoying the noises he made. His cock was rock hard now; I could see it dangling heavily between his thighs. Slowly, the ring of his anus loosened enough for me to slip three fingers into him. My sweet General was beginning to lose himself in the feelings, making small, guttural noises every time I penetrated him with my digits. I was soaking wet; without any kind of undergarments, my vagina's natural slickness was beginning to seep down the inside of my upper thighs, and any lingering soreness from Seven was forgotten.

I squeezed the tube onto my hand, and slicked up the phallus, stroking it much like I might if I could feel it. I guided it with my hand to the entrance. He could tell that this was something different. I caressed his back, told him to relax his muscles. Slowly, I pushed the rounded tip forward a centimeter, then back out. Hux was shaking. I slid it forward again, reaching out with my senses.

"Fuck," I sighed, the sensation of stretching so much stronger and so different from when I'd fucked Seven. There was resistance; this shaft was wide, his hole was small, and the combination generated a sort of delicious pain. I tried to conjure the feeling of warmth in my belly, but arousal and pleasure are two different things. Without stimulating myself, I had nothing to give him but more urgent need. Which I did. I felt the sphincter relax a little, I eased into him a little further, and I must have touched that sweet spot because there was a flare of rippling heat and he moaned, turned his head to look back at me. The combination of unguarded emotion on his noble face and the slender shape of his body bent before me filled me with such desire. I eased into him further; the girth was in full now, he was stretched, but the phallus was only partly in.

I paused, slid my hands down his lower back, around to his hips, and curled my fingers there. I pushed into him; from him, it felt as if his body were being filled by something impossibly immense, and it was toeing the line between pleasure and pain, no matter how much lust I infused him with. That's when I took the small remote out of the waist strap of the harness. Watching his face with a tight smile, I activated the phallus's vibrating function at its lowest setting. Immediately, he bucked, pushed back, and the lowly vibrating phallus was buried in him up to the hilt. He cried out. This would do for now. I tucked the remote back into the waist strap, grabbed his hips, and then began to pull out of him and push back in, tensing my hips, keeping my movements precise, easy.

"Good boy. Take my cock," I murmured sweetly, digging my fingers into his hips, holding his squirming body still. The sight of the black shaft sliding in between those cheeks, slick with lubricant, made the sexual hunger writhe deep inside of me. I felt powerful in a way that was foreign to me. I was not limited by my sex now. In fact, there was something distinctly exhilarating about the role reversal such an act provided. _Riala_ , I thought to myself as I fucked the lithe General in his ass, _look at where you are now._ A former slave, buggering a general. How delightful.

I moved faster now, burying my artificial cock deep inside of him, drawing out partway, thrusting forward. The noises coming from him were nearly not human. The prim and proper Hux, with such control over himself normally, was reduced to this writhing, moaning sheath for my vibrating phallus. I didn't keep my Force empathy attuned to him the whole time; I felt that I needed to keep my head, and if I lost myself to the pleasure he was feeling, I might lose my ability to self-regulate an ensure that I didn't injure him. He was enjoying this, though perhaps a little too much.

"How does it feel to get fucked by me, Hux?" I asked after a particularly sharp thrust, holding myself inside of him so he would feel the vibrations deep in his gut. He whimpered, started to squirm, I slapped his already tender ass cheek with one hand. "Answer me."

"Oh Riala," he groaned. Quickly, remembering that he was supposed to address me differently, he corrected himself. "Sir, it feels _so good_. You're so fucking huge." I very rarely hear him curse. It was electrifying. That edge of vindictiveness that was threatening flared. Dared I tell him? I hadn't intended to, not at first…

"I was hoping you might recognize it," I said quietly, stroking his back lovingly, slowly sliding out of him partway, pushing back in, making him moan hoarsely as I continued to penetrate him in smooth, rolling motions. "It's been a few years, I'm sure, but I thought you might have some memory buried deep of how Kylo Ren's cock felt buried in your ass."

He tensed, and I felt the muscles of his ass tighten around the shaft. Ah if only I had a real cock... Slowly, he turned his head to look at me, and I knew that the expression on my face was wicked, cruel, and I didn't care. His face, however, was frozen in an expression of helpless horror.

"You… what did you do?" He finally stuttered. I paused in my motions, buried to the base between his buttocks.

"I did exactly what I meant to," I hissed, drawing out, and then plunging back into him, and despite the emotional distress on his face, he couldn't stop from reacting to the pleasure and his sudden cry became a moan that was long and drawn out, with a break as he was jarred by another impact. "I thought you might like it. Do you not like my gift, General?" Fuck, withdraw, plunge. Faster now. Discreetly, I upped the vibration intensity, applied more lube. I wasn't sure he was capable of words at this point, though. At that moment, he was incapable of anything but making his body receptive to what I was giving him. Gingerly, I reached out with my perceptions to monitor his emotional state… he was euphoric, beside himself. He was enjoying being fucked by Kylo Ren's cock.

"Remember, you have but to say the word 'Ewok' and I will stop. If this is too much for you…" I said, slowing. I was beginning to feel the burn in the muscles of my abdomen, and beads of sweat were standing out on my brow. Performing on this end of sex was rather tiring, I thought, wiping my forehead with the back of my arm. He was no better. I could see the sheen of perspiration forming on his back. He didn't answer, only breathed ragged breaths, small whimpering vocalizations with every exhale. I leaned down, felt his front with one hand, found his cock. It was positively turgid. I looked up, underneath him, and I could see his hands gripping the rope, holding it taut as if for stability.

" _Please_ ," he groaned. "Please don't stop," he said and he continued speaking, but his words after that were fast and ran together, becoming a litany of begging and panting. I shrugged. I gripped his long, straight cock in my hand and did my best to stroke it while I continued to bury the shaft up to the hilt, back out to the tip, and repeated. He was bucking and jerking beneath me, and I felt his cock surge in my hand, tighten somehow further. He was about to come. I enveloped him with my senses, felt the life force radiating from him and the building heat and pressure was _intoxicating_.

In a flash of white hot fire, we came. I allowed myself the guilty pleasure of drawing some of his energy into myself, and felt it fill every limb with tingling heat, waves of power and strength filled every muscle fiber in my body, only heightening my euphoria. Together, we crested the climax. The General was nearly sobbing, and I felt the warm spurt of fluid throb into and over the gloved hand that was wrapped around his cock, his hips bucking forward, fucking my hand helplessly. I made sure to hold perfectly still inside of him, worried that his thrashing might cause him injury.

And like a puppet whose strings were cut, he crumpled beneath me, ass in the air, forehead on the floor. I was panting. He was clearly tired, unable to gather his thoughts into a comprehensible form for the moment, but as I'd felt after stealing some of Seven's energy, I felt invigorated, jubilant. I probed him with my perception… he was okay… a little drained, of course, but nothing worrisome, likely nothing that he would notice. I had managed to resist drawing too much of himself into me this time.

Very gradually, I pulled the phallus out of him and gently caressed his lower back, easing him down so that he lay curled over himself in a sort of face down fetal position. The hand that had been wrapped around his cock was covered in his semen, and I internally chided myself for not preparing towels or something ahead of time. When I stood up, my stiff knees popped loudly in the quiet room.

I went into my refresher and returned with three towels: two large ones and a small one that I'd dampened with cool water. Before I did anything else, I crouched down next to him, untied his wrists, and laid the folded wet towel on the back of his neck. He shivered and, as if coming out of a dream, raised his head, looking straight ahead. I wrapped the other towel around him, stroking his back lightly, before I set to work removing the harness and the plastex gloves. I wiped myself off and I set the items on the counter to clean later, returned to General Hux. His emotions were… confusing, though generally positive.

"You did very well," I said in a low, soothing voice. He turned to look at me, his eyes wide and shining. "Are you alright?"

"A little thirsty," he rasped. His movements were sluggish and dazed. I didn't want to move him yet. I went into the kitchen, began brewing tea for both of us. After a moment I walked back to him, reached down with my hand. He took it and, with me helping him, he moved unsteadily to his feet. If I was stiff from kneeling behind him, I knew he had to be even more so. I guided him toward the sitting area. "I need to wash," he said.

"Not yet," I answered, sitting him down on top of the towel, wrapping the rest of it over his shoulders. "First, sit with me and have some tea." I heard the water boil, moved back to the kitchen where the phallus, still in the harness, sat upon the countertop absurdly prominent. I returned with two teacups and an insulated pot. Hux looked so small right now, dwarfed under the large towel, his red hair ruffled and in disarray, his cheeks flush, almost like a little boy. But he wasn't, of course. He was a grown man, older than I. At the moment, it didn't seem to matter. After what I'd just put him through, I knew that I needed to ensure that he was in the right state to return to duty. I glanced out the picture window. Night had fallen over this part of the base, and tonight the sky was clear. In the distance I could see the black outlines of mountains and I stared for a moment as though I might be able to see the cave.

"When do you return to post?" I asked, pouring us both from the teapot once it had finished steeping.

"Tomorrow, 0700h basetime. I have a mission offbase. I hear that you do as well," he said, blowing the steam away from his cup after I handed it to him. I nodded, remembering my excitement.

"Yes, a deployment. I'm not sure where I'm going, but mission briefing is tomorrow."

"Pressy's Tumble," he answered before taking a sip. I quirked my head at him curiously. He glanced up over his cup and upon seeing my expression, elaborated. "When I heard you were deploying, I skimmed over the mission documents, approved them myself. It's an artificial asteroid belt in the Presylla system, a mining operation is built into the largest asteroid. They supply the Order with metals and other things. We have reports that the Republic is giving us trouble again. They never seem to be able to keep their noses out of our business."

I was keenly interested now. Were I a regular soldier, I might not have learned the details until the mission briefing. "Do you think there'll be combat?"

He smiled at me subtly, regarded me with his eyes that appeared blue again in the current lighting. "Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure. You've been training haven't you?" I nodded, looking absently down at my bare thighs. I could see the fruits of my training aboard the Finalizer in the muscle definition there and in other places. My stomach, though still soft, had a layer of firmness beneath the fat now, something that had likely allowed me to fuck the General without tiring for as long as I had. "You'll be armored and given weapons, though I doubt you'll need them. If I understand Phasma correctly, you are there to observe and assist if necessary. You're not a soldier, but you do have skills that may prove useful."

"Kylo Ren has given me weapons," I mentioned, observing him over my teacup. His eyes flickered back to me unblinkingly.

"Is that why you saw him last night?"

One of my brows rose of its own volition as I puzzled over his question. And then I realized with a mixture of dismay and pleasure that he thought the man I'd slept with the night before was Kylo Ren. Was that why he had only given minor pause whilst buried between my legs? _Oh my_ , I thought. This was very interesting.

"I didn't see him last night," I answered carefully, a smirk threatening my mouth. Now it was his turn to be confused. The cup he held in his hands lowered somewhat. "When we were in orbit, he presented me with two vibroblades, a shiv and a stiletto. Obviously, I needed some time to grow accustomed to them. I haven't seen Kylo Ren since we returned baseside." I drank my tea. The General was at a loss for words, his face drawn as he considered the meaning. I could tell that a question was on the verge of being spoken, knew what that question was. We were both aware of what would happen if he decided to probe into my sexual habits. Part of me wanted him to, wanted to reprimand him for his curiosity, but the other part of me knew he was yet not in a state to receive further punishment. In the end, I never got the chance. Whatever question was tempting him never reached his lips. Common sense ruled over his burning curiosity, apparently. He was not a stupid man. I offered him more tea, which he accepted tacitly. I could tell that his thoughts were wandering.

"So what business calls you away tomorrow?" I changed the subject, brought him back to the present. He cleared his throat.

"An operative of ours has information regarding Lor San Tekka, as it happens. I am meeting with him to ensure that the information doesn't fall into enemy hands. The Resistance also wants to find him, or rather what he has in his possession. I imagine Ren has informed you of the details regarding the results of the Bothan's interrogation." There was just the barest hint of bitterness when he spoke Kylo Ren's name. I spared it no thought, distracted by the news. They'd found him, finally, and soon the map to Skywalker would be in the Order's possession. I felt a small thrill of excitement for my part in it. I wished then that I could go with Hux to meet this operative instead of going on this deployment, but I doubted I would have the clearance anyway. 'Operative' sounded very covert, perhaps a spy planted within the Republic whose identity had to remain secret. Very exciting news, I decided, finishing my second cup of tea. Hux seemed to suddenly remember the cup he held in his hands and followed my example.

I stood, and accepted his empty cup, brought them both and the teapot to the kitchen.

"Let's get cleaned up, shall we?" Hux stood to his feet, and I noted that his thighs were still a little shaky. Overall, he seemed mostly recovered. "Unless you have to be somewhere else, I thought it best if you stayed with me tonight," I said, walking with him into my bedroom and then into my refresher. He looked at me, and I didn't miss the hint of elation in his features, or something akin to relief.

"I would like that. The only caveat is that I must leave by 0600h."

Together, we stepped into the refresher and after turning the hot spray on so that it bathed us, I began to wash myself and him. He let me, melting slightly at my touch, his eyes closing as I gently administered shower crème to his back and chest. He took care of his own cleaning below that, but I could tell by his jerky movements that his buttocks was still sore. He might have trouble sitting for awhile, but I'd rarely seen him do anything but stand when he was in uniform anyway. I examined the bruises around his neck. They were minor, and the collar of his uniform should cover them well enough. On impulse, I leaned in and tenderly kissed his neck, and he arched it in response, leaning his head back, sighing deeply. His cock stirred, but I chose to ignore it. Though I'd been slightly buzzed by the fix of energy I'd siphoned from him, the small dose was beginning to fade and I was getting sleepy. According to the clock in the next room, it was 2416h basetime, and while the 28-hour day of Starkiller's rotations meant that it wasn't so late, Hux needed to be up early.

As he went through his nightly routine -as meticulous as he was, I figured it might take him some time-, I went into the next room, a robe wrapped around myself, and started to tidy up. In the sink, I used sterile soap to clean the harness and set it out to dry, and then washed the phallus. I gathered the other implements I'd laid out (riding crop, rope, lubricant, etc) as well as my toy and brought them back to the bedroom. By the time I entered, Hux was standing awkwardly next to the bed. He was wearing a clean pair of short briefs and a plain black military-issued undershirt. His arms were wrapped around himself somewhat. His eyes fell on the toy in my hand, but I paid him no mind as I circled around to the far side of the bed, opened the top drawer of the bedside table and dumped everything in there.

"Where shall I sleep?" He asked uncertainly. I sat down on the bed with one knee up, facing him. I feigned contemplation.

"I considered Letting you sleep on the floor like an animal," I said, savoring the look of dismay on his face as he looked around the floor of the bed. "But I thought you might much prefer to share my bed with me. An honor, to be sure, that none other has enjoyed." I equally savored the delight on his fair features as I patted the bed in front of me. Tentatively, he sat down on the edge. I pulled back the covers and slid underneath them, shedding my robe as I did. He followed my lead. I could tell that he was still a little hesitant with the familiarity of sharing a bed, and while I could understand, I found it a little amusing that after engaging in some seriously carnal acts together, such an innocuous thing was somehow taboo.

He rolled onto his side and I dimmed the lights. In the dark, I was hyperaware of the sound of his breathing. But after awhile, I drifted to sleep.

I dreamed of the cave again. And as it had before, as I flew into its mouth, instead of finding myself inside, I found myself running through the base, lights flashing, alarms blaring, chaos everywhere. I still didn't understand what had led up to that point, but I resumed my search, racing into the slave access corridors as I had before. I somehow had the presence of mind to remember what happened the last time I emerged into the regular halls, and chose not to use that same door which had led to my dream death. I ran further, and burst out of the access hall. There was no fire here, I thought with relief. Looking frantically down the hallway in both directions, I turned right. I was rushing toward… what exactly? And who? I entered a lift that would take me down to the level I sought: maintenance and sanitation.

Ahead I saw the large, door that I sought. It smelled of garbage here, and my anxiety was through the roof. I was running out of time. Death was on my heels. There was a hand on my shoulder, and I flipped around, startled. I was in my bed, in my quarters once more. The hand on my shoulder was a man's. As the dream world fell away from me, I remembered.

"Riala," a man's voice whispered in the dark. "Sorry to wake you, but you were thrashing in your sleep."

"Oh," I croaked dazedly. I looked at the time. It was 0330h. A sense of unease lingered on me like a web and I turned over on my back to stare blindly toward the ceiling, took his hand which was rested on my shoulder in mine and held it for a moment. He let me, and the warmth in his long fingers was comforting. Slowly the anxiety from my dream faded. His breathing had gotten very quiet suddenly, and though I hadn't deliberately reached for them, his feelings became known to me, and thus his thoughts. I was wide awake, at least for the moment.

"Hux, roll over," I said, my command a whisper. His breath caught in his throat audibly. He didn't ask which way I wanted him to turn. I felt the bed shift and the sheets rustle. I felt around in the dark for my bedside table and rooted around in the top drawer for the tube of lubricant and a fresh plastex glove. I turned to face him and shifted closer to him until my naked front was pressed to his back. I placed the tube on the bed just behind me on top of the glove.

His breaths were coming faster as he surmised what I had in mind. Gently, I began to stroke his arm, savoring the feel of his soft skin. In the dark, everything else was heightened, and without the use of my eyes, my Darksight automatically began to fill in the space around us. Hux's energy was a glowing bundle of particles, beautiful and erratic in his current state of suspension. I soothed him sweetly, pressed my breasts to his back and nuzzled my chin beside his neck. I planted a small kiss there, where I knew it was still tender from bruising while my hand crept to his side. My fingers followed the contours of his hipbone and I gripped it, pulled his ass back into my groin. His breath came out in a shuddering sigh as he pressed back into me.

"Are you too sore, my pet?" I asked sweetly, my breath tickling his ear.

"No." His answer was fast, almost cutting me off and I smirked in the dark. I slid my other arm, the one that was pressed down into the mattress, upward and underneath the arch of his neck so that his head rested on my upper arm. The hand that was on his hip felt around to his front, and with a satisfied chuckle, I felt that his cock was already rock hard. His hips moved forward involuntarily at the contact, but I moved my hand around to his buttocks.

Gently, I stroked his cheek through the material of his undergarment. I hooked my thumb into the waist band, tugged it down beneath the swell of his ass cheek so that it sat in the crease of his upper thigh. I picked up the lubricant, snapped on the glove, and squeezed a small dab onto my fingers. I rubbed them together to warm it up before I moved my hand back down and slipped my fingers into the cleft. I started to stroke him firmly there, from the top of the cleft down underneath to his perineum, just behind his balls.

He made the sweetest throaty moan then, and shuddered every time I passed over the tight bud of his anus. I felt his muscles below relax incrementally with each pass, waited until he was pliant, until his breath swelled deeply in his chest, before slipping my finger into him. Hux moaned, arched his neck back, his back shivering.

"Sir," he whispered. "Can I be so bold as to ask for something…"

I smiled, amused as I dipped my finger into him and then drew it out slowly, only to the first knuckle yet. "You can, though I may or may not choose to humor you."

"Can you…" his voice trailed and his back arched backward, thrusting his ass into me as I inserted my finger a little further. "Choke me."

That gave me pause. I'd never heard that before. "Choke you?"

"Ye-uhhhn," he started speaking but it became a groan when I stroked the swell of his prostate. "Yes, Sir… if you are willing, I would enjoy that very much."

I thought about it for a moment. Why not? "On your stomach, General."

He complied eagerly and I shifted so that I straddled the back of his thighs. I rested my gloved hand on one buttock and leaned forward so that I could reach his neck. His head was turned to the side facing my free hand and I moved until I found a comfortable position where I could wrap my hands around his neck partially, my four fingers cupped around his trachea.

Slowly, I resumed my caresses of his tight orifice, but when I slipped my digit into him, I simultaneously tightened the hand around his neck. I was careful at first; I didn't want to kill or injure him, and I knew his skin was likely still tender from the collar.

"Tighter," he rasped. I obliged. I slipped my finger into him up to the knuckle and crooked it in a come-hither motion to stroke his prostate while tightening my grip. He made a choking noise and bucked and I let go, worried. "Please… I'll tap twice if I need to."

Alright, I thought. I could sense how excited he was becoming. His erection was almost painfully pressed between his body and the mattress. I fucked him with my finger while concentrating on the hand around his neck. I tightened it until I felt his air cut off and held it there until he began to squirm, and then I held it a little longer. His body bucked beneath me and then there it was, a light tap tap on my thigh. I released his neck and he gasped, coughed. I had an idea of his limit now. I began again, releasing his throat just when he started to thrash. I didn't understand how he could enjoy it, but then I supposed there was something to be said for the utter abandon of being at my mercy.

I felt the pressure mounting in him, the urgency as the rhythm of the penetration and airway restriction and release became more regular. When he had air to make a sound, he was at turns gasping and moaning, an encouraging noise. I found myself getting rather into it as well as I attempted to stay atop him. I increased the pace, and then, just as I was about to let go of his throat again, his entire body tensed and strained, his limbs shuddering as he climaxed into the mattress. I let go of his neck and he uttered a strained sob as waves of incomprehensible ecstasy washed over him, and from inside of him, I felt the pulses of his cock as he ejaculated in spurts beneath him.

Slowly, I withdrew my finger, peeled off my glove, and gave his ass a last smack for good measure. He was breathing heavily, and I felt his body quaking for many minutes afterwards as he came down. In my amusement, it hadn't even occurred to me to share in his climax, but it didn't matter; I'd enjoyed that far more than I expected. I slid off of him and lay next to him on my side while he recovered.

Finally, after a long moment, he stirred. "Thank you… thank you," he said breathlessly. "I'm afraid I made a bit of a mess on your bed," he said, his voice chagrined. I snorted.

"It's not my side of the bed, so I don't care."

He laughed weakly and my smile grew. Such a rare noise. "Would you… shall I serve you?"

I sighed and waved my hand dismissively, even though he wouldn't be able to see it. "Don't worry about it. You'd better get cleaned up and get back to sleep. Busy day tomorrow."

The mattress shifted as he slid off of it to his feet. I heard his joints pop as he stretched, and then footsteps as he padded into the refresher and shut the door. Alone again, I rolled over to my side of the bed, discarding the used glove by tossing it on the floor. I'd deal with that tomorrow. Now, I just wanted to sleep.

I rolled to my side and, after waking slightly when he returned, dabbed at the bed with what I assumed was a towel, and then climbed under the covers. When he slid up behind me and tentatively draped an arm over my side, I was too drowsy to protest and I soon drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep with General Hux nestled at my back.


	33. The Mines of Pressylla, Part One

**Summary** : Riala prepares to take part in her first combat mission: the investigation of the mining operation within the Pressylla system's artificial asteroid belt. Before she departs, she finds herself face to face with the being responsible for everything that has happened to her.

 **Author's Note** : the plot progresses. If you haven't read Finn's short story within Greg Rucka's Before the Awakening novel, I highly recommend it, though I hope I give enough description so that you don't need to. If you have I apologize for any inaccuracies. Pt. 2 is coming! And then... The Force Awakens.

* * *

I was alone when I woke. The general had been stealthy in his leaving and wisely did not wake me. Had he slept at my back the entire night? I seemed to remember getting hot and rolling over, pushing him away from me. I would never have taken General Hux to be one who might take comfort in curling up with someone else, but at one point I would have laughed to imagine that the notorious Hux would find pleasure in submitting sexually to a former slave. Despite my attempt to get to sleep early, what little sleep I actually got was inadequate. I was groggy now, and my entire upper body was sore from the activities of the previous everything. As a result, I was feeling mildly irritable, so it was just as well that he was gone.

I found that my thoughts didn't stray far from him as I went through my morning routine. I had to remind myself what a vicious bastard he was capable of being because at the moment, I was actually feeling rather fond of him. I briefly entertained the notion that perhaps my intervention had affected a change in the man from who he once was. And then I mentally slapped myself as a name rang clear in my recent memory. Amon Rhidan. Considering my powerful bias toward Captain Phasma's virtues, General Rhidan had been the most decent person I'd ever met within the First Order's ranks. There were no others like him, and likely would never be again. Hux, with his unconscionable ambitions, had arranged the assassination of General Rhidan the first chance he'd gotten. He'd even used Rhidan's affections for me as bait to lure him into a position of vulnerability. With all that had happened to me, it was all too easy to forget that the blood was still fresh on Hux's hands.

As I combed out my hair, I looked at myself in the mirror. I tried to see past the outside, tried to find someone familiar, but the longer I stared into my own eyes, the less recognizable that face became. There were so many layers between the young woman I saw and the way that I felt inside that I almost felt that the visage staring back at me was not mine.

Perhaps I was simply heartless. My grieving period over Rhidan had been brief, manifesting itself in anger toward Hux, but I had so easily found diversions in him anyway, and in Kylo Ren. Perhaps, I mused, I belonged here with them. It didn't matter that I had been brought into the Order against my will. I'd found my place here and I'd settled in quite nicely. Captain Phasma, General Hux, Kylo Ren… they'd all in their own way used me, and I had used them back. I was good at it. Apart from my Force sensitivity, that was where my real talent lay. The girl in the mirror with brown hair and brown eyes and the perfectly neutral expression, maybe she belonged with the predators. But was I one of them? Or had I merely donned the trappings? More than once, this survival instinct had saved my life. At what point did the pretense simply become reality?

Such existential ponderings were not a comfortable subject, especially when the scrutiny was turned to myself. I knew that I was nervous about the away mission, which might explain my dark mood, but not for fear of death or injury as one might expect. I would be surrounded by members of the most well-trained army in the galaxy, including Phasma. I might even get to see her fight, I thought with a small amount of pleasure. What really seemed to be riling my nerves, though, was my uncertainty over _who_ we'd be facing. I knew what Hux said, something about a disruption in shipments and potential Republic interference, inciting unrest and sabotaging mining equipment. Likely the story would be much the same in the official mission briefing later. It was a simple sweep and neutralization mission, nothing more. Much like the destruction and ransacking of my hometown and my subsequent abduction was simply a matter of course for a resource gathering mission. Sometimes it was difficult to see that the enemies of the Order were really deserving of its brand of justice.

I'd been braiding and twisting my hair for half an hour now without realizing it. I couldn't get it to cooperate even though I'd had plenty of practice. My heart just wasn't in it anymore. For fifteen and a half years, I'd braided my hair in the way I was instructed, knowing only what I was taught: that the length of my hair proved my loyalty to the Order. It was almost the religious vestments of the underclass, treated as though it signified that we were somehow fated to serve, to bring strength to the Order from beneath. A strong foundation of laborers meant a strong organization. Of course, I never fully bought into that. I did what I was told, but I never had any illusions as to the divinity of slavery.

Disheartened, I let go of the braid that I had been attempting to work on and watched it slowly unravel, a twisting stream of dark brown hanging down my back. I didn't want to think about these things. Not when the Order was so close to achieving its goals, to finding Luke Skywalker and forever ending the influence of the Jedi. There was no room for the Light in a galaxy ruled by the Supreme Leader and his commanders, and when that inevitability came to pass, I didn't want to be on the wrong side of the conflict. There was no point to thinking dangerous thoughts about the moral establishment that entangled me so, not if I expected a long and prosperous life. I pushed my troublesome doubt down into my stomach and let it lurk there while I finished my morning routine and prepared to leave my quarters to visit the barber tech.

I swung by the office before leaving and noted that I had a message from Kylo Ren on my terminal. He wanted me to meet him in the dark chamber on his wing of the base within the next hour. I hadn't been in there since the night he taught me how to use the Darksight, and changed my perception of the universe irreversibly.

I wondered how he would feel if I showed up with my hair buzzed short, bristled in the most severe military style, like Seven's. The disappointment I could imagine on his face gave me great pleasure and distracted from my heavy heart. With no further thought, I made my decision. Perhaps if I looked like a soldier, I might find it easier to think like one, to follow orders without question. What an amusing notion.

* * *

"All gone?" The barber tech, a middle-aged white man with a neat but non-military haircut and uniform, looked dubious.

"All of it," I repeated firmly, looking in the mirror, telling myself that I didn't care, that I would own the shaved look, that it was exactly what I needed to move forward from my old life. Powerful women, including some Dathomiri witches, had shorn their hair, and I could only imagine how liberating it was.

"How about we start with a trim, you know, maybe just a little at a time? Such beautiful hair must have taken so many years to grow… I'd hate for you to regret it and then report it to your err… superiors." I was mildly irked that he didn't seem to know what the hair meant. I assumed he'd never worked on a slave before, and likely didn't realize the purpose behind my years of hair growth.

"Oh don't worry, this is definitely for their benefit," I answered, picturing Kylo Ren's face when he saw what I had done to the feature he seemed so fond of. Carefully, the tech began to comb and brush out the length, then brought the buzzing clippers close.

The second he shaved in the first stripe, just over my left ear, however, I knew I'd made a mistake.

" _Wait_ , " I uttered suddenly, sitting forward. He jumped, stiffly holding the clippers so that they pointed away from us as if he were holding the head of a poisonous serpent. His already pallid face had gone completely colorless. I ran my hand over my newly exposed skin, turning my head to the side to see it. Quite suddenly I felt ill.

"Miss…?" I heard him ask tremulously.

It took me a moment to find the words to say. "I think I've changed my mind. Do you think you can fix this?"

He drew a long, shaky breath before grabbing a comb in one trembling hand. He tried to shape it this way and that, but really nothing could be done to hide it.

"You know," he said, nervously adjusting the collar on his uniform. "I can say for a fact that the undershave is the height of fashion on Coruscant right now."

I doubted it, but I wasn't going to argue with him at this point.

In the end, he managed to forge it into something… interesting to say the least. He shaved the entire left side, leaving the top and the right portions. The remaining hair was trimmed and layered so that the longest layer hit my upper back. I had never noticed before that my hair had a slight wave to it, and with most of its weight now gone, I felt as though a great strain had been lifted from my neck. Instead of combing to cover the bare skin, I brushed everything over to the opposite direction so that it couldn't be missed. It wasn't the style of haircut I would have chosen for myself, but now that I had it, I would make it mine.

I needed to visit the armory at some point, but I decided that it was best if I didn't keep my master waiting.

I made my way to his wing of the base, holding my head high and my shoulders straight as I walked through the corridors and passageways, undaunted by any looks I happened to get. Really, few seemed to notice or care, and I was left with the realization that the hair thing was probably only important to me, as someone whose identity had been so closely tied to it.

I felt Kylo Ren's presence long before I reached my destination, though there was something extra in what I was sensing this time, a quality I couldn't quite put my finger on. When I reached the black corridor, it only grew. It was something related to how he was feeling, I knew. With my Force-boosted empathic abilities, his Force presence carried more information in it than it used to. Whatever he was feeling lent a dense quality to the air around me. Even my footsteps against the polished black floor seemed somehow muted. It was otherwise dead silent, as if this place existed outside of normal space.

When I reached the chamber door, an extreme sense of apprehension seized me. _He is not alone,_ I thought with sudden clarity. I could hear a second voice, then, though the sound was so muffled through the door that I couldn't hear any words. Then his voice again. The door slid open and the last part of Kylo Ren's words came clearly through the open doorway.

" **… has arrived.** " For a moment, I was stunned, frozen in the doorway as if the strength had been drained from my muscles. My heart didn't beat, and I didn't breathe until I could fully wrap my mind around what I was seeing. It took every iota of my self control to not cry out in surprise.

A figure as tall as the chamber itself loomed at the far end, upon the raised platform I'd seen before and whose purpose I'd absently questioned once. Upon the platform, the figure, too large to be human but with unmistakable humanoid features, sat hunched on a massive throne, illuminated by indirect lighting from behind so that its face was almost entirely obscured by shadow. What I could see of its skin, its hands and parts of its face, was waxy and as grey as a corpse. So stunned by this sight was I that I didn't immediately notice the vastly smaller, darker hooded figure standing before the creature.

" **Riala, come** ," the deep voice of a masked Kylo Ren echoed on the walls of the chamber. When the creature on the throne didn't move, I could almost imagine that it was a statue. It was enough to get me to take a step forward, and then another though I didn't let my eyes break from its face. I knew who this creature was without being told, and as soon as I reached Kylo Ren's side, I genuflected upon my knees, trying not to give in to the trembling that threatened to overtake me suddenly. Only a creature like this could possibly embody the immense power and reputation of _the_ Lord Snoke. But for such a commanding visage, I could not sense him sitting there, towering above us. I didn't know what manner of creature he was to have no life force or Force presence, but I did not doubt his power. Was he able to shield his presence so completely? And if so, why would he? With my eyes on the floor, I let my Darksight slowly, tentatively expand my senses. Kylo Ren's presence was the only one I could feel. In fact, it was as though Snoke weren't there at all, just the image of him. Of course. Surely if he'd come to the base I would have felt it before now. Still, just seeing him was terrifying enough.

" **Supreme Leader** ," Kylo Ren said, sounding at once more reserved and less pretentious than he tended to be, " **I present my student, Riala.** "

"Ah yes. The slave." His words boomed with a volume born of immensity rather than that of a raised voice. In fact, he sounded almost bored. Being referred to as slave and in such a dismissive way made something in my middle twist unpleasantly. Already, I was wrought with tension, but now I felt the added fear spurred by the knowledge that my life meant nothing at this moment. I was insignificant. The Supreme Leader, the legendary being behind the formation of the First Order and the Knights of Ren, was looking at _me_ now. I didn't understand my purpose for being here, but I wasn't going to ask questions. I didn't think my tongue could work anyway. "Very well, Kylo Ren. Prove her loyalty and I will consider your proposal."

" **Yes, my lord** ," Kylo Ren said. By now, my head was raised and I was staring at the man beside me. Even if I concealed my emotions behind my mental barriers, I knew that I must have stank of fear. What proposal? When he turned and looked down at me, I wished I could have seen his face just then. I wanted to see his expression so that I might try to comprehend what was happening. Instead I got the sinister expressionless mask, glinting dully in the light. " **Riala, stand**."

Slowly, I did as I was told. Recalling my thoughts from that morning, I suddenly realized my folly in thinking them at all. With a master like him, there was no such thing as privacy, even within my own head. I felt chilled all of a sudden, as though the cool moisture of the dark chamber permeated my clothing and settled on my skin. As if the grey, clammy hand gripping the massive throne in front of us were tightening around me.

" **Free your thoughts, Riala. If you are worthy, no harm will come to you,** " Kylo Ren said, his voice low as though he only spoke to me, as if the menacing, gargantuan Snoke weren't there observing. Of everything, it was Kylo Ren's ease with him that I found most intensely unsettling. And his words. _If you are worthy, no harm will come to you…_ I had to wonder what it was that he'd proposed to Snoke, and what it would take to be seen as 'worthy.' I suspected that leeching the life force from a First Order soldier (and later, more carefully, from a General), might be looked upon poorly. There was no time to speculate. If he detected any amount of resistance from me, I was sure that I would see the same unpleasant outcome. I closed my eyes to prepare for the onslaught, but I wasn't even granted the breadth of a heartbeat to compose myself. I felt his Force surrounding me, and then digging into me. It penetrated my skull and pierced the seat of my thoughts.

 _Why is he doing this?_ I thought as I struggled to maintain some control over myself, but fear of the Supreme Leader and of what my teacher would find made it very difficult to contain my thoughts. I felt him there, then, next to me in my mind, and I knew he'd heard my query.

" _Do not question me. Show me, without a doubt, that you are worthy,_ " he said, his voice distant as his consciousness rifled through the myriad passages in the annals of my memory. I couldn't tell if he was speaking aloud or thinking the words, for at the moment I was becoming deeply withdrawn into my own consciousness. The immediate surroundings began to lose focus as a jumble of experiences flashed before me. I didn't resist him, not actively. But there were things I didn't want him to know, and with Snoke observing, I dared not resort to my usual petty tricks. Kylo Ren was no longer the inexperienced celibate, susceptible to sexual suggestion. Our intimacy had ensured that, and doubtless he would have more self-control with his master observing.

There was no time to think. I was walking to the slave quarter to meet with Armata. She might remember things about our life on Yavin 4. Something, anything that might tell me something about myself and my abilities. I knew Kylo Ren had warned me against pursuing such inquiries, but the curiosity was overwhelming. And then, irrespective of a chronological sequence, I was sitting in my old shared quarters with her, talking over shared portions. I'd brought her fresh fruit that day to make her more amenable to seeing me, and the taste of the fruit as I bit into it was vivid and sweet, and disguised the faint scent of ozone that I'd never noticed was ever present in that part of the base until after I left it, as close as it was to the power generators present in the Tech and utility sectors. Then it was later. I was returning, disappointed, to my quarters.

" _You disobeyed my orders…"_ Kylo Ren said. _"But this is not what I seek."_

Suddenly, I found myself in a small space… an office, and I was not alone.

'I think I'd like to fuck you, General,' I said to Hux over the rapid, rhythmic sound of skin slapping skin as he stimulated himself. I imagined him writhing beneath me. Suddenly he was. Without intending to, my thoughts jumped, as they naturally tended to do, to a related memory. It was dark. I was perched atop a man's bare thighs as he lay face down, my lube-slicked, glove-clad fingers sliding in and out of him, making him squirm while the other hand tightened around his neck. My hand was starting to get sore. Strangling someone required a lot of continuous force.

" _Treachery_?" Kylo Ren's mental voice intruded. Suddenly, I felt the floor of the audience chamber beneath my feet as I was rocked back into the present. Despite everything, the memory had startled him into releasing his hold on my mind slightly, just enough for me to become aware. Snoke, unless he had some power through this hologram, was not party to his words. Realizing how it must have looked, I forced him to see the rest of that night.

Hux began to thrash, and then suddenly his whole body shuddered and I let go of his throat as he came, his satisfied groan belying the outwardly violent-looking encounter. " _Of course it would be that,"_ Kylo Ren thought. _"For fuck's sake, Riala,_ "

 _Hey, you're in MY head_ , I spoke silently. _You wanted me to free my thoughts. You don't get to judge._

 _"I can sense that you are hiding something from me. Tell me now or I will rip it out of you. It is not wise to keep the Supreme Leader waiting."_

So I showed him. At least, I showed him what I wanted him to see. I brought him into the memory of using my mouth on Seven while reaching out with my senses, made him experience what I was experiencing as I experienced what Seven was experiencing. It was mind-bending. Kylo Ren, to his credit, observed silently as the memory moved forward, to the moment of discomfort in penetration, and then to the shared climax. I brought him to the next day, when Hux was on his hands and knees in front of me. I felt it as I fucked him with the phallus, I felt what he was experiencing and I was speaking.

'…I thought you might have some memory buried deep of how Kylo Ren's cock felt buried in your ass.' So crude, and doubly so out of context, but now at least, the observer he was distracted from anything further I might be concealing.

"What do you see, my young apprentice?" Snoke's voice boomed around us suddenly, breaking the spell.

" **Nothing of consequence, Supreme Leader,** " Kylo Ren responded promptly, his voice steady, even though I felt his riled emotional state. " **She's an empath, it seems. Nothing more.** "

And then he was gone, and I was alone in my head, looking far up at the deformed face of Snoke as he looked down at my teacher with what seemed strangely like consternation mixed with affection.

"Do not let weakness cloud your judgment, Kylo Ren."

" **No, Supreme Leader. She can be trusted. I am sure of it.** "

"We will speak on this more. _After_ you have the map to Skywalker in your possession."

Kylo Ren bowed, and then Snoke's terrible gaze fell on me. Dark eyes, obscured in shadow from the front, bored into me. With the light at his back, the only indication that they were looking at me was the faint light glinting off of the black orbs. Holo-image or not, at that moment, I felt that he could see right through me, straight to my doubt. Then his image flickered and disappeared, leaving the chamber strangely empty, motes of dust drifting in the sharp beam of light where he had once been seated. My eyes lingered where the figure had been for a moment before I looked toward Kylo Ren expectantly. He was still looking straight ahead, but I knew he was aware of my need for answers.

" **I proposed you as a candidate for apprenticeship, Riala, a cursory membership into the Knights of Ren.** "

My jaw dropped. I quickly closed it. "You said yourself that my powers were lacking. That I am too old."

" **You are not so old. I was no longer a child when Lord Snoke brought me to the Dark Side.** "

This didn't feel right to me, but I could sense the strength he felt in his convictions. "You were trained before that, even. You have some personal knowledge of Jedi teachings. And I know that they were often trained from a young age." The black mask turned toward me suddenly, and I felt his irritation, tempered by excitement. I knew he didn't like to speak of his past, but at the moment, I didn't care. If he was considering this, he owed me his confidence.

" **This is true. I was a child when I was first instructed. But as your sensitivities to the Force grow, I become more convinced of your future potential. I won't promise anything, but perhaps, with the Supreme Leader's direct guidance, you might even take your place among his knights.** "

My heart, already moving at a rapid pace due to the memories I'd been forced to relive, beat harder, a steady percussive pounding against my breast. This was what I'd wanted, wasn't it? Power? The ability to become a weapon for the Dark Side? Someone that perhaps Darth Sidious might have found value in employing? Why, then, was I experiencing such fear?

" **Of course, I find it disappointing that you didn't tell me of your most recent progress. Empathic abilities are potentially valuable if utilized effectively. If Supreme Leader Snoke decides to accept my proposal, there will be no secrets between us. and none will be kept from him.** " I felt my cheeks burning as if, ridiculously, I felt ashamed for lying to him, even as now I continued to keep the full extent of my abilities from him. " **And there will be no time for recreation,** " he added. His mask tilted as he regarded me with interest. " **You've been busy.** "

I noted that while his voice held none of the startled judgment that his thoughts had, there was something else there that I couldn't quite put to name.

"I do find pleasure in the company of others," I said with applied confidence. "As I am outside of the rank and file, like you, I see nothing wrong with it. The General, especially has proven to be enjoyable… in a certain context."

" **You seek him of your own choosing? After you've seen what he will do to gain power?** " His voice was neither accusatory nor contemptuous. Instead, he sounded curious.

I shrugged, trying to rub the chill dampness from my arms as I considered how to justify my choices. I realized that I couldn't, not from a moral standpoint at least. "He's a good-looking man," I offered finally, following the ridges of Kylo Ren's ebon and silver face with my eyes as I remembered that night under the stars when the dead Rhidan lay at my feet in the snow. I found that the memory didn't upset me as it once had. "And in the context of what we have, it's mutually beneficial."

" **He fits into the rank of General as if he were born to it,** " Kylo Ren said lightly, glancing toward the raised floor in front of us. I didn't miss his subtle contempt now, as if aspiring to reach such a position within the military, even Snoke's military, were detestable. " **I find him insufferable. But the Supreme Leader has faith in him. I doubt he is aware of his off-duty activities, however.** "

"Well if the Supreme Leader takes me into his guidance, it would stop." I looked at him pointedly. "All of it."

Kylo Ren turned toward me, and I felt his enthusiasm spilling outward from him unbounded. Obviously my implications didn't phase him. Even knowing that I could sense them now, he didn't hide his feelings from me. " **I suspect that he will. He can see as clearly as I that you are suitable for apprenticeship.** "

"Thank you, Master," I said with a slight nod, trying to keep all trace of doubt out of my voice. I thought back to Snoke's behavior during our brief meeting. Unless something was said before my arrival, nothing about his voice or body language had shown me that he felt that way. If anything, he'd seemed utterly indifferent, as if the entire exchange were a waste of time. Or, possibly even as though he had merely been humoring his apprentice. I didn't want to say as much, but I was not keen to find out what Snoke would say once we returned with the map fragment and he had what he wanted. Something told me that he wouldn't want Kylo Ren to have any distractions while hunting the last Jedi. I was exceptionally good at being a distraction, and that put me in a very vulnerable position. Kylo Ren's bearing changed slightly, and his pride and affection for me was unmistakable.

" **Your new style becomes you,** " he said lowly. A gloved hand rose to my face then and touched my cheek. He moved in close, and without thinking, I leaned into it. In my shock upon seeing Snoke for the first time, I'd completely forgotten about the mishap in the barber's. I smirked. I remembered what he'd said in regards to my hair, that as long as there was enough hair to hold onto, he didn't care what I did with it. " **It is time for you to prepare for your mission,** " he said then, dropping his hand, turning away. I felt a sudden pang of grief as the loss of contact and what it signified. My world was changing again. I'd just become comfortable with my place in it, but I knew now that it couldn't last.

I bowed my head, turned, and left him there in the dark chamber alone, my thoughts in turmoil.

* * *

After passing security guards and being scanned by no fewer than three separate doors, I entered the armory proper. In a large main room, I could see soldiers, in and out of uniform, being fitted and sized and adjusted while others walked with techs to the arsenal of blaster weapons lining the walls in neat rows. There was a low din of conversation and mild clatter as military hardware of all kinds was being handled and examined, polished and cleaned, and placed on or taken from the racks. When I entered, the CTO of the armory, a dark-skinned woman in her thirties with black hair pulled into a neat bun beneath her cap, walked up to me, snapped her heels together, standing at attention.

"CTO McHenry, ma'am," she greeted. "Commander Kylo Ren alerted us that you would be coming. He thought that it might be best if you choose your own armor, though he did offer some very useful suggestions. It's not often that we assist non-military in readying for combat," she said, excitement in her tone. "Please, follow me, ma'am and we'll get you suited up."

I followed, bemused by her enthusiasm, as she took me to a room toward the back of the main space. Here was supplementary armor for roles outside of the Stormtrooper ranks. Inside the room were different pieces of armor on racks along the wall and in freestanding displays, organized by type. There was a section devoted to shoulder armor, chest plating, gloves and boots, and every other imaginable category. I didn't know how I was supposed to choose. Luckily, the CTO was well-prepared. According to her, Kylo Ren had recommended dexterity over fortification, and as someone who likely wouldn't be caught in the thick of a battle myself, I could see the merit in that.

CTO McHenry set to work immediately, providing a small tour before anything else. She took me around the room and explained each piece's function and the benefits and disadvantages to each type. It was overwhelming at first, but I was eager to learn. She knew the subject matter thoroughly, and soon I found myself starting to gain preferences of one type over another. The colors I chose were mostly black, with dark red accents, a choice that McHenry felt was suitable for a subterranean environment. The base was a standard under armor body suit in black, and with her approval, I picked a partial helmet, closer to a durasteel skullcap than a bucket. I didn't want anything to interfere with my focus or Darksight. With my hair properly coifed into a short braid, the helmet fit comfortably. As the parts of my attire came together, the officer kept track in her datapad, noting inventory changes and any modifications she made, such as the retractable visor and earpiece for my helmet. At my request, and with the quick work of an armory tech, a thick veil, heavy black suede lined in red, was attached to the sides with the option to unhook it if I chose. It wasn't as sophisticated as the filtration units in Stormtrooper helmets, but it would provide some rudimentary protection from environmental pollution such as dust and smoke. And if necessary, I could be fitted with a breathing unit.

I tried many different chest pieces, but settled on a dark red Sullust leather jerkin that fit snugly, complete with adjustable laces at the sides. Atop that, she recommended a plastisteel chest and back plate to provide further protection from any glancing blows in the front and at my back. These plates had built-in universal hookups for an optional breathing apparatus, should I need it. The leather jerkin had a longer skirt in the back woven of the same material which offered light additional protection, but was open at the front for added freedom of movement. I had my vibroblades with me, and the officer was prompt in providing a belt with places to attach the long one to my side. The shorter blade would fit neatly in a wrist holster under the flared sleeves of my body suit, a hidden last resort should I need to defend myself in a tight space and found myself otherwise unarmed. Unlikely, but still comforting.

The entire process took us more than an hour, but it was an hour well-spent.

"You look like an assassin," McHenry commented with approval at the finished product. When I stood before a mirror, I could see what she meant. Without the First Order insignia on the shoulder pauldrons, I might have passed for a bounty hunter rather than a soldier. The overall effect was sleek to my body shape, and it did indeed appear as though I were prepared for some kind of covert operation. Further armor had been provided in the boots with their armored boot covers, small rounded shoulder pauldrons, knee and elbow guards, and glove armor. The overwhelming black and dark red color scheme was punctuated subtly by small accents in chrome silver which glinted delicately in the metal details on my blade sheath, various buckles and fasteners, and the hook clasps for my veil when the light hit them just right. I rather liked the way it looked, and I was not blind to the fact that a certain captain might approve of the aesthetic appeal.

After that, she provided a thorough explanation, prompted further by my questions, regarding the technical specifications of my armor. The visor was more technologically advanced than one might initially guess for its small size. Its features included a location sensor built into the helmet, night vision capabilities, and the standard HUD display used in all full-coverage military helms. When I activated it, I was granted with an overlay of the CTO and the armory tech's designation, my coordinates with respect to the core of Starkiller, and a vitals feed which, according to McHenry, could be set to that of my squadmates or anyone else that had a serial designation and was connected to the network.

Satisfied, I thanked the officers and left to grab something to eat before I was needed. Of course, on my way to the mess hall, a voice crackled into my new helmet's earpiece. It was Phasma, in a message meant for all that were assigned to the mission. We were meeting in main hangar bay B in half an hour for departure. With a grunt of frustration, I made double time to the mess hall, determined to eat something before I left.

* * *

When I reached the hangar bay, a fully-armored Phasma was already there, standing before the orderly lines of troopers standing in formation that had arrived so far, waiting for the rest to come. When she saw me, I approached her to steal a quick greeting. I could see her appraise me.

"I approve of your armor, soldier," she said, her deep voice filtered through her dazzling chrome helmet's vocoder. She was in full combat ready mode with a small black cloak over one shoulder, helmet buffed to a gentle shine. I could never quite prepare myself for what an impressive sight it was to see her thus. "You look every part the experienced soldier. McHenry does good work."

With a nod of that shining helmet, she directed me to stand with a small box formation of specialists to the side, all wearing the white paulders that indicated their squad leader ranks. The other troopers arrived on time and in an orderly fashion. It was time. Phasma gave the orders and teams of them loaded up into the appropriate shuttle. Lastly, she motioned to us and to a couple of teams of white-armors and together we filled the last transporter where we took a seat and buckled in. I looked around myself in fascination. I hadn't seen the inside of one of these things since I was a child. It was a lot smaller and less intimidating than I remembered, though as I looked upon the impassive faces of the Stormtroopers seated opposite me, I felt an uncomfortable flashback. I closed my eyes and looked inward to settle my thoughts and prepare for what lay ahead of me.

The troop transport brought us aboard the star destroyer just as early evening fell across the base below. We watched as the Resurgent-class star destroyer grew in size in the view port until it was all we could see. As soon as the shuttle door opened and the docking ramp lowered, the infantry filed out in a tight formation, marching to the hangar floor. This was not my first time aboard one of these star destroyers, but I could tell from some of the soldiers that this was new to them. As they marched, white helmets stole quick glances to the ranks of TIE fighters which hung on their moorings, clean and shining in the light of the bay. More shuttles arrived after ours, and at the direction of a deck officer, an older man in a perfectly tailored, immaculate uniform, they were separated by cadre and were given directions to their billets. When they filed out of the bay, Phasma hung back to speak to me.

"We'll be making our jump to lightspeed soon. I suggest that you settle into your barracks with the cadets. They should give you no trouble. Mission briefing is in an hour, but I want you to meet me beforehand for the specialist pre-briefing."

I nodded affirmatively. "How long until we reach Pressylla?"

"We deploy after the briefing," she answered, and then with a lowered voice, "I'm glad to have you with us."

After that, I followed in the directions that the rest of the soldiers went. I would get to see the ship from the perspective of a soldier this time. When I entered my assigned barracks, the rest of its occupants, comprised of a mixture of cadets and more experienced soldiers, were all just beginning to settle into their bunks, stowing their gear in lockers. One or two spared me a glance, likely curious about the person in strange armor, but most ignored me and chatted amongst themselves. My helmet's visor was retracted at the moment, denying me the readout of their designations. It didn't make any difference, I was an outsider and doubted I would be speaking to any of them beyond of the mission anyway. I'd barely begun to open my footlocker when the order came over the PA to prepare for lightspeed.

The ship shuddered beneath me and my heart skipped a few beats before racing forward again. I was gripping the edge of the bunk above mine to hold myself steady (I was keen to maintain my composure among these soldiers) when a I heard a voice behind me.

"Fresh meat," the male voice said, and I turned. The trooper, an older tan-skinned man and an experienced soldier by the looks him, wasn't speaking to me. He was facing a group of four cadets across the center aisle from me who were all removing their helmets. I caught a glimpse of four young men, barely older than myself. I realized I was staring now and busied myself with examining my vibroblades, listening as one of them introduced himself and his teammates using nicknames that they'd clearly given each other during their training. It was much the same as the more personal names slaves gave one another when we were amongst ourselves. All save one, that is, who was referred to by his designation, FN-2187. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't be sure.

Slowly, I turned to look at them again. I hadn't recognized the cadets at first because of their informal names, and because I'd only ever seen them in armor, but I knew that last one. I'd seen them fight together in the combat sim. This was the second group of cadets that I'd observed with Phasma. She was proud of this team, FN-2187 in particular. Hux had had his reservations about the young man, even though he'd shown himself to be effective and decisive in the battle simulation. I lingered on him a little bit longer before sitting on my bed and pulling out my datapad. Unsure of what else to do with myself before pre-briefing, I looked up information on Pressy's Tumble, hoping to prepare myself with some mine schematics or some other data that might come in handy later. Someone came over me after a minute or two, and I spared them no thought. Probably just my bunkmate.

"Hey," a voice said. I looked up. A cadet, the one who'd introduced the rest of his team and himself as 'Slips,' was standing in front of me now. He was boyishly handsome with a square jaw and strong chin. Medium brown eyes stood out in a pale-skinned face and a short crop of brown hair was trimmed on top of his head in a style identical to many others in the barracks. He gave me a vacant grin, and I suspected that he was the cadet I'd observed falling behind his teammates. Something about him seemed a little… slow. "What corps are you a part of?" He asked, looking me up and down with unrestrained curiosity.

Someone answered before I could, one of the other soldiers in the barracks, an older woman by the sound of it. "She's the Force adept that's been training under Kylo Ren, cadet. I think you're barking up the wrong tree." I looked to see who'd spoken, but by now more than one set of eyes were on me. I was grateful for the protection of my veil, but still I wanted nothing more than to roll to the other side of my bunk and make a quick exit.

"Can you read minds?" He asked, moving in closer so that he leaned against the upper bunk next to me, with the same stupid grin on his face, unruffled by the trooper's warning. Aware that this small exchange now had an audience, I didn't know how to answer and just stared at him wordlessly. Countless retorts popped into my head, as did the sudden desire to intimidate him with my Gaze.

"Quit bugging her, Slips," said one of the cadets. FN-2187. He was watching us as well, a look of restrained exasperation on his darkly handsome face.

"Yeah, I doubt she'll get much from your head anyway," one of the others, a pale redhead named Nines, said with a laugh. The other soldiers joined in and Slips, clearly embarrassed, moved his arm from the bunk and stood back a little. A message alert sounded from my datapad. It was Phasma, with impeccable timing, calling me to pre-briefing. With a quick look around the room (most had gone back to their own business, uninterested but for Slips who seemed on the verge of saying something else) I mumbled something about the Captain needing me stood and quickly left. Maybe I could convince her to let me stay with her later instead of with the rest of them.

The team leaders and I were the only ones present for the pre-briefing. Phasma, standing before us at the front of the briefing room, tall and sure. Easily, she went through each of our combat roles in the upcoming mission after everyone had arrived, clicking through projected images of the mine's layout. My role, she informed the team leaders, was to make use of my ability to sense the presence of lifeforms, unbound by walls or other obstruction, to provide more accurate hostile location. Clearly she had been in communication with Kylo Ren. My added presence, she reasoned, would give the Fire-Team I was working with forewarning against attacks, especially invaluable in the dark and labyrinthine save system within the mine. As such, my group would be leading the infiltration of the interior structure while the cadet teams kept order closer to the surface. Phasma would take to the task of interrogating any miners to gain insight into the situation, though I could tell that she would have much preferred to take part in the action.

After the pre-briefing, we were sent to the shuttles in the to await the rest of the troops to finish their standard briefing. I entered a shuttle with one of the flametrooper squad leaders peering into the hangar outside. Shortly after that, the star destroyer that housed us exited lightspeed and came to a halt with a faint shudder. There was the momentary confusion of equilibrium as we left four dimensions and returned to the three dimensions of normal space that made me wish I hadn't waited to eat so late in the day. From my vantage point, I could see the hangar bay doors opening, a faint blue film indicating the energy barrier which kept the atmosphere inside of the ship. I caught a brief glimpse of blackness beyond the forcefield, stippled with fragments of distant rock illuminated on one side by Pressylla's star, before I looked away, slightly dizzied by the sight and already slightly nauseated by the transition from hyperspace. The flametrooper I waited with was silent, standing with one hand lightly rested on the deactivated flamecanon, the other loosely holding a standing strap attached to the ceiling.

The soldier was wholly unconcerned with my presence, so I used the opportunity to steal glances. I'd rarely encountered any of these weapons specialists in my time on Starkiller, and if so it was from a distance. Up close, the armor was intimidating to say the least. As gleaming white as the rest of the troops, the flametrooper's helmets featured a narrow slit visor with glare reduction, and heat-deflecting armored gaiters. As I understood it, each forward squad of ten would have two riot control troopers and a flametrooper assigned to it, though only two were commanders. The rest were standard infantry. The flametroopers wouldn't be utilized within the depths of the mine of course, close quarters and huge gouts of fire did not mix, but their presence had value when it came to adding to the intimidation factor of the Order's might.

Soon after the star destroyer came to a stop poise above the asteroid belt, the rest of the soldiers had begun to file into the hangar. With practiced speed and efficiency, they split into groups and entered one of three pre-assigned shuttles. The flametrooper squad leader and I were joined by our team, but I did not recognize any of their designations. I tried to keep my cool, hanging onto the ceiling grip in my place at the back, the same as the rest of them, but my mind kept straying to my doubts, returning to what had been revealed to me in the audience chamber of the Supreme Leader. I wasn't sure that I shared Kylo Ren's enthusiasm in his proposal and confidence that his Master would readily accept me into the Knights, even as an apprentice. Something certainly told me that Snoke had no intentions of doing so, though what that meant for my fate I didn't know. I didn't much want to think about it just now.

Too soon, the shuttle was filled, the engines roared to life, the docking ramp raised and the door closed. With a small jolt, the transport shuttle was in motion and I could only stare at the backs of the rows of gleaming white helmets standing in front of me, ready to fulfil their duty. I wished I could have absorbed some of their unquestioning certainty and faith in Command, for right then, on the verge of my first deployment in the name of the First Order, I wasn't sure of anything anymore.


	34. The Mines of Pressylla, Part Two

Author's Note: I have re-tooled the end of this chapter to fix my characterization of Finn. Sorry for the re-post.

* * *

Ours was the first shuttle to land within the main asteroid's hangar. The sprawling refinery complex occupied the largest single chunk of rock in the asteroid belt, and from the schematics that I'd seen in the pre-briefing, I knew that the tunnels went deep. The shuttle had barely settled down when the docking ramp extended and the doors opened. Swiftly, the troopers spilled out into the space beyond the door on point while myself and the squad leader exited behind them. Even the hangar bay was massive, with a ceiling that arched easily fifty meters above us, criss-crossed by rickety scaffolding and roughly-hewn pathways. The space was dim, and the light from the star system's red dwarf spilling into the hangar bay comprised most of the illumination. It cast everything in bloody red light but for small islands of artificial interior lighting. The splashes of green and yellow spread thinly throughout the cavern somehow made the darkness more oppressive than if it had been unbroken.

Soon after us, a second transporter touched down and disgorged its contents of four fire teams, a mix of cadets and seasoned soldiers. I recognized the designations of FN-2187's team on my visor's HUD before my own squad leader, the firetrooper designation BT-9212, rallied his squad, pulling me away. Speaking on a squad specific com channel, he split us into two teams of eight. I would be accompanying him in the lead and the second team would be securing the rear.

I knew I would be surrounded by experienced soldiers, and was a little relieved that the leader, who I quickly learned was referred to as Ninety-two-twelve by his team, would be part of my team. Still, leading an expedition into potentially hostile territory was not something I'd ever pictured myself doing. I had to remind myself that this wasn't exactly a battlefield. Looking around us, past the edge of the hangar bay platform, the cavern stretched into darkness, and aside from the noises of the troopers, the only other noise was a faint, distant vibrating which traveled through the floors. Drills. The other soldiers in my team fell into a wedge formation. I occupied the center of the wedge so that I was surrounded on all sides by a barrier of white, faceless suits of armor. The Squad leader closed me in from behind and, following the rickety metal ramp which led down from the raised hangar floor, we descended into the lower cavern. After a few steps, the rattling of the ramp became nearly cacophonous beneath several sets of armored feet, heavy with the additional weight of weapons and other combat gear and the structure shuddered and shook underneath us. The metal ramp rattled loudly and I was sure that the echoes of its sounds would have alerted any potential hostiles to our presence, not that we were making any attempt at stealth anyway. It did, however, draw the attention of others.

I sensed the presence of the other beings long before my squad mates did, and subtly pointed out their locations to the squad leader. He instructed me to relay the positions to the rest of the team as I saw them. None of the beings I saw were moving, though; they were miners, I realized, watching mutely from distant perches on wall-mounted scaffolding and ledges, and from what I saw of them, they were comprised of many different species. We must have moved at least 25 meters down before we set foot on rock floor. Where the artificial lights were installed along the walls, I could see slimy trails of brackish water seeping from above. The space smelled musty and dank, as if sickness hovered in the air on the verge of seeping in with every breath. I couldn't imagine living and working here, never once breathing air that wasn't recycled. It couldn't be good for one's health. But then, as I caught a glimpse of a miner, a three-eyed snout-nosed Gran, I could see just how poor the conditions were. It was emaciated, the cheeks just hollow marks on its face, and the filthy worn-out miner's uniform hung loosely on its body. Silently, it watched us as we passed it by, and while my teammates didn't spare the miner a second glance, I found it difficult to tear my eyes away.

We came to a stop where two bore holes led in opposite directions in the back of the main cavern and it was here that Ninety-two-twelve split the squad. He and I took the left tunnel, accompanied by two riot troopers and four infantrymen. As we exited the main cavern and stepped into the darkness of the tunnel systems, ninety-two-twelve gave the order to activate the low-light settings on our HUDs. I did as I was told, but I found the sight jarring. While it did bring the walls and surfaces of the tunnel into view, every isolated point of light was magnified four-fold. Without an enclosed helmet to control the contrast, I felt that it hindered more than helped and made a mental note to mention that to CTO McHenry when we returned. It was no matter, though. I opted not to use it, preferring my Darksight to the nightvision setting anyway. I concentrated on filling the space around us with my senses. Soon, the world around me wasn't so dark. There was a marked difference, however, between the resolution of this space and that of Starkiller Base. Perhaps proximity to the planet's core did enhance my ability. But still, I was already sensing the presence of other creatures far beneath our feet on other levels of the complex, so it was more than adequate for my current situation.

As we made our way through the tunnels, the gently sloping stone floor beneath us leading ever downward, I made sure to comment on the presence of any beings in the tunnel ahead of us. More than once, however, I saw them scatter and conceal themselves down dark side passages and shadows niches as we passed. Part of me wanted to find them, tell them that I meant them no harm, that I wasn't like these soldiers. But I knew that to them there was no difference. More than anything else, I sensed fear.

We continued through the levels, the floor sloping gently ever downward until, at sublevel 18, we discovered the first piece of nonfunctioning equipment. Ninety-two-twelve determined, upon inspection, that the drill had merely broken down and its state was not a result of tampering. He logged the machine's serial code in his wrist-mounted datapad and we moved on. This far down, the air had taken on a decidedly metallic taste to it. It felt damper here, and chillier. I'd never been one to feel claustrophobic in small spaces, but something about being here, beneath all this rock, deep within the belly of a massive asteroid floating in the vacuum, made me feel on edge. The chatter between the squad members was short and to the point. No one wasted words here, and I stayed completely silent when I could. Periodically, the squad leader would ask for a status update of the surrounding area. I would reply either with 'nothing to report' or with the specific locations of any other beings in the area.

Half an hour passed in such a manner, leading me to question just how extensive the tunnel network was in this complex. Then another passed. The environment was beginning to get to me. I'd expected this to be dangerous, exciting. Instead, the few living things we did encounter, emaciated and sickly humanoids of all kinds, were filled with such a strong sense of desolation and hopelessness that it had begun to seep into my bones. We found a dead miner half a kilometer through the twisting tunnels, somewhere on level 35. Without a lifeforce signature, I didn't see it at all until we were upon it. It had been a Talz, a creature that I knew was supposed to be white-furred when healthy, was filthy, almost unrecognizable, and resembled a muddy clump of rags rather than something that had once lived and breathed. At some point, the Talz had died here, deep beneath the surface in the black tunnels, and I knew it had died alone.

"Sir," I said into my com, looking at the pitiful thing, illuminated by the beam of a stormtrooper's rifle-mounted flashlight. It was so small, so sad. An ache had begun to form in my chest. "How could this have happened?"

"Weak species. A facility of this size, you're bound to have some loss." He scanned the creature, found where its identity chip had been implanted, and logged it into his wrist-mounted datapad, same as the broken machine. And then, without further comment, we moved on, leaving the pitiable corpse behind us in the dark. This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. Who were these miners? Were they criminals or simply unwilling employees of the First Order, unlucky in their capture as all of us were? The topic had not even come up in the pre-briefing with Phasma. I wished, more than anything, to leave these dank tunnels behind me and rush back to the surface. I longed for the light of the red dwarf star and the world I knew inside the star destroyer, or on Starkiller Base. This place was hell.

We encountered more miners, but after a point, after a certain depth, I noticed that they didn't even stop in their labors when we approached, as if there were no point. Notably, I saw a Gran standing so that it faced a wall. It wasn't looking at anything or doing anything. It didn't acknowledge us or even seem to notice our passing. When I sought to get a grasp of its emotions, I was baffled. Its emotions were a jumble of incomprehensible chaos, anger and fear and hatred and wild, frenzied mania whirled inside of it with no distinguishable end or beginning to separate them, but even so, it held perfectly still. Madness, I thought, finding it hard to breathe. I considered using the breathing mask that the armory tech had supplied me with, but that wasn't the only problem. I felt like my skin was crawling, like my armor was too tight. None of the soldiers seemed to be having the same problem.

We rounded another bend, and I was so distracted by my growing panic that I almost didn't notice the change in the air, or rather, in the mood. A large space filled with refinery equipment opened up before us. Visibly, it was strangely empty. The room was better lit than most, but the lighting only ensured that the shadows stood out more starkly against the spots of light. Through the Force, however, I felt them. There were a dozen at least, and I could see them hiding behind the enormous processor tanks. They were angry, and unlike the miners we'd encountered, there was no despair in them, just focused, single-minded determination and rage, and I knew that whoever they were, they had the means to accomplish their hostile goals.

"Ninety-two-twelve," I said, throwing out my hands to stop the soldiers from entering the space and then motioning to the open doorway. "Hostiles. An ambush." And before I could say anything more, there was a shout and a blaster bolt hit the ground in front of the leading infantryman's feet.

"First Order scum!" Another shout rang out, and then chaos descended upon us. The troopers immediately spread out in attack formation, and I was shuffled back out into the corridor by the squad leader.

"Phasma, we're receiving enemy fire on level 46, coordinates 26,73," BT-9212 stated into his comm. There was a crackle, minor interference from the layers of rock between us, and Phasma's voice sounded in all of our ears.

"Neutralize the threat, Commander, but try not to damage the equipment. And keep the Force-adept safe."

"Yes, Captain," he responded, and then to me, his voice edged with eagerness, "you, stay low and out of sight. We'll make quick work of these bastards," before he re-entered the vat room.

Screams and blaster fire echoed out of the room, and flashes of light bled into the rocky corridor. My heart pounding, I crouched against the damp wall a meter away from the opening, watching the movements of the soldiers and their assailants in the blobs of light. One hand was gripped tightly around the hilt of my vibrostiletto, though I was only partly aware. I was sure the troopers would make an efficient example of these attackers, whoever they were.

Suddenly, the edges of my Force perception rippled as an entity approached my position. It was closing in with great speed. A familiar jumble of alien emotions, anger, fear, and despair, washed over me and I was unable to withdraw my empathic senses and regain my thoughts before a body slammed into mine, knocking me off balance. Suddenly I was grappling for my life with a crazed assailant. In the indirect lighting of the vat room where the firefight was still unfolding, indistinct com chatter buzzing in my ear, I could make out the face of the Gran, its three eyes wide and glassy, a horrific braying coming from its mouth as it straddled me and scrambled to subdue me while I frantically tried to fend off the blows.

It had something in its hand. A weapon, maybe. I didn't think; I pushed a crackling, jagged bolt of wrath into my hand and thrust an elbow into its chest. The Gran shrieked, but instead of falling back, it only became more frenzied. The madness I'd sensed before was affecting the effectiveness of my Force wrath, I realized with rising panic. The weapon it wielded in one three-fingered hand, a sharp rock, narrowly missed my face as I struggled to throw it off of me, all the while the most frightening sounds came from it, sounds that I was sure were not words in any language.

I reached for the stiletto, but I couldn't get my hands in the right position. The creature reached forward with its snout, snapped its teeth at me as if it meant to bite, and I barely managed to push it away. My mind raced. I smelled blood, felt a sharp pain in my tongue; heard the blaster fire of the soldiers in the next room, so close; a flare of light from within the vat room indicated that the flametrooper squad leader had activated his weapon, momentarily drawing the attention of my attacker. Under the sleeve of my suit where I could just reach; I struggled with the fastener for a moment before it slipped free; with barely any pressure or precision or range of motion, pressed so tightly against the body above me that I could barely move my arm, I hit the button with my thumb and thrust upward into my assailant with the vibroshiv.

The Gran shrieked, a guttural, animal sound. Warmth flooded over me, blotted out the clammy coldness of the caves, replaced it with hot, wet, stickiness. The creature rocked back on its knees and dropped its rock, its movements uncoordinated as it tried to get to its feet. It stumbled into a wall. There was silence in the surroundings and in the next room except for the sounds it was making, a gasping, sucking noise, gurgling, as it clutched its abdomen. A voice sounded in my earpiece, but I didn't understand the words.

I couldn't wrap my head around the sight of the gushing blood welling around its fingers. I caught a glimpse of glistening grey tissue peeking from underneath its hands, bulges and swells of slippery organ flesh. Before I could react, there was blaster fire from behind me. Glowing bolts impact the Gran in the shoulder and chest. The creature jerked back with the first shot, but the second caused it to spin, and hit the wall. It slid to the floor, leaving a dark, wet smear behind it, quivered, and then was still. Someone crouched next to me.

"Are you injured?" A woman's voice, one of the infantry troopers.

Numbly I looked down at myself. My clothes, black enough to hide the color of the Gran's blood, glistened in the light. I reached under my veil and touched my lip where a well of my own blood was seeping out, and ended up smearing whatever was soaked into my glove across my mouth.

"I'm fine." I answered. I looked at the Gran. "It was crazed... it didn't know what it was doing."

"Help her up," Ninety-two-twelve ordered, and two pairs of gloved hands grasped my upper arms, helped me unsteadily to my feet.

"Good job, soldier. First kill?" The question came from another one of the troopers. I didn't answer. "Close quarters, too. That's brutal."

BT-9212 was communicating with someone on a private channel. Com pips indicated as much, and I knew that he was probably updating Phasma on the situation. I realized that I was no longer holding my shiv, looked over to the bloody corpse of the Gran. Without his hands there to hold his stomach together, his abdominal cavity was gaping open through a tear in his miner's uniform, a wet, dark gash across its front. Blood, the color indistinguishable in the current lighting, soaked into the fabric. The tiny blade, true to Kylo Ren's warnings, had done severe damage, and the humanoid's organs were now spilling out. A dark puddle was slowly growing beneath its body. One of the other troopers had walked over and was scanning it for the microchip, doubtless to log the loss in the records.

I could see my shiv laying on the ground next to it and after a moment of hesitation, I walked toward it on shaky legs, bent down, and retrieved it. For some reason, I was so concerned with appearing calm. I deactivated the vibro function -I would need to look into setting an auto shut-off option- and wiped the thing off on my tunic's skirt. It didn't do much good. For a moment, I stood there looking down at the blade in my hand, and then the Gran. Only now could I see just how emaciated it was, disfigured by what could only be burn scars across its face. Where it had gotten the strength to attack me, I didn't know. Perhaps upon hearing the conflict in the vat room, it grew bold, hoping that liberation was at hand

His private conversation apparently over, Ninety-two-twelve addressed the entire team.

"Captain says we're done here. Riala, BT-4711 and BT-4623 are going to escort you to meet her on level alpha 77." I didn't answer, just looked at him. I was to go further into the mine? The blank white face of his flametrooper helmet looked at me through the visor slit, and then he motioned to the other soldiers to move out, walked up to me. On a private channel between the two of us, he spoke. "Are you going to be alright? I wouldn't have left you alone if I'd known that would happen… are you going to tell Captain Phasma about this?" I looked behind him at the Gran on the tunnel floor, already forgotten by the rest. Ninety-two-twelve continued, raised a hand as if to clap me on the shoulder, then thought better of it. "You're golden, it turned out okay. You handled yourself. Let's just keep that in mind, yeah?"

I didn't care about his self-preservation at the moment, I just wanted him to stop talking to me, so I nodded, said something like 'yeah, whatever.' Satisfied, he nodded and then left with the rest of the team. One of them marked the body for droid pick-up before they disappeared the way we came. My escort walked with me in the other direction where we came upon the lift access, small room off of the main corridor containing two service lifts. We entered the first one that arrived. I saw them both glance at me while the creaky lift carried us further down into the asteroid, but neither said anything. All I could think about was what had just occurred. It was surreal. Or rather, what felt surreal was standing there in the lift as though nothing had happened.

"Nice to see some action," BT-4711 said in a woman's voice, breaking the silence. I glanced at her, standing to my right.

"Yeah. Beats regular patrol. Also, good to show those Republic bastards that we don't fuck around," BT-4623 answered, a man.

"Even you got one," BT-4711 said, looking at me.

"I think he was sick," I answered, remembering. My hand had sunk far, far too easily into the Gran's abdomen. Like a hot knife through butter. For a moment I wasn't in the lift, I was back in the tunnel. "It made no sense for him to attack me."

It was scrabbling, swiping at my face with its three stubby fingers, uttering strange grunts while blaster fire exploded in the background. I'd bitten my tongue, I suddenly remembered. I rolled my tongue around in my mouth, focusing on the sharp pain that the motion caused. It was enough to bring me back to the present. The lift was silent and BT-4711 was staring at me. The male voice sounded from behind me.

"You can't blame him. Who knows what those Republic bastards have been filling their heads with."

"Were they Republic? I didn't see any uniforms," the female trooper replied, staring straight ahead again.

"You know how they operate. They like to keep things under the radar. Probably sent their Resistance attack dogs to do their dirty work."

Just then, the lift came to a shaky stop and the door scraped open. Level 77 alpha. The space beyond was darker than the level we'd just left, and I could see puddles of filthy water shining in the light of the open lift. The troopers stepped off, with me in between. The lift doors closed behind us and they moved forward. Around the bend, a familiar figure was standing outside of a door labelled '03.' In the light of a single red bulb outside of the door, and the green indicator lights on the riot trooper's charger packs, Phasma's suit of armor twinkled. For once, it brought me no comfort. Six other troopers, four infantry and two riot troopers, were standing near her. I could sense the presence of four entities within the room. They reeked of fear.

When we approached, Phasma stepped in close to me, rested a heavy armored hand on my shoulders. I didn't mean to, but I flinched, and she noticed. She took her hand back slowly, and in a private comm channel between the two of us, she spoke.

"BT-9212 says you saved their lives. If you hadn't seen the attackers, they could have gotten the jump on your squad…" her spotless helmet turned down to look at the rest of me then. "I also heard that you had your own encounter… Maybe it's best if you wait out here."

I didn't answer. Back down the tunnel, I heard the sound of a lift door creaking open rustily. I turned to look and four suits of armor marched out. My visor identified them as FN-2199, FN-2003, FN-2187, and FN-2000. I stepped back, into the shadows. For some reason, I didn't want them to see me like this, covered in the Gran's blood.

"FN Fire Team reporting as ordered," FN-2187 said. I sensed anticipation from the cadets. Excitement. I wondered if they knew about the fire fight we'd encountered, if they had seen combat, too. Phasma gestured to the door.

"The negotiation's in there. You and your team will accompany me."

"We're negotiating with the Republic?" FN-2187 replied dubiously.

"No. For the miners." Phasma's answer was short. Without further explanation, she hit the pressure plate in the wall beside the door with the side of a fist and it slowly swung open. Through the doorway, I could see the beings now, sitting at the far end of a large table inside the dingy room. From what I could see of them, they looked to be in about as bad shape as the miners.

The cadets followed Phasma inside, and with a brief glance in my direction, she closed the door behind her.

For a moment, there was nothing. I wondered how long we would be there. The blood had long cooled and was starting to itch against my skin. My mind, cruelly, kept putting me back in that dark corridor. The desperation of the place, the darkness, the damp… and the way the squad leader had completely ignored them, treated the corpses like so much damaged equipment. It made me sick.

The Gran had been on me, its three eyes crazed, its cheeks sunken and scarred, the smell, like… festering wounds. My stomach surged. He'd fallen back when I'd stabbed him, and only then did the troopers come out and shoot him. The memory was so vivid; I could almost hear the blaster fire.

I _could_ hear the blaster fire. I rocked back into the present, my eyes on the numbers painted on the door. I felt four distinct life signs flicker one by one and then blink out of existence. Negotiations were over, apparently.

"You're now Stormtroopers," Phasma's voice sounded over every comm so that all present on this deployment could hear. The six soldiers standing outside in the corridor with me reacted with satisfaction, looking at one another and nodding. Proud.

The door swung open and Phasma exited, followed by the cadets, all gripping their blaster rifles. They were exalting with one another, brimming with barely contained joy. The soldiers waiting in the hallway clapped them on the arms and shoulders, but Phasma stood there for a moment, gave the order to one of the soldiers to mark the bodies for cleanup, and ordered the rest of the soldiers and the cadets to return to the lifts and head toward the shuttles. Without touching me, she ushered me to walk with her, glancing at me as we walked and saying nothing. The air smelled like hot metal and singed hair.

We entered the lift with the cadets and a couple of the soldiers while the rest took the other, and together we made our shaky, creaky ascent up the five kilometers of rock. The cadets were almost shaking with excitement, but with Phasma present, they kept a tight leash on their behavior. One of the Stormtroopers invited them to eat together once they returned to the ship to celebrate. All were jubilant.

All but one. FN-2187 was quiet, and I focused on him while all else faded to the background. There was something off about him. I pushed aside all that my empathy showed me, all but him. He was… reserved. I couldn't sense anything from him. That was what was so odd. Whatever was going on was happening deep inside of him. I remembered how he'd acted after the simulation. Withdrawn, separate. He was used to hiding inside of himself. Like me.

He looked up at me, then, and though he wore a helmet, I knew he met my eyes. His face tilted, looked at my clothes. I looked down as well, and could see clearly the gory mess on myself. Ashamed suddenly, I crossed my arms over my chest, wished the lift would move faster. When I looked up again, FN-2187 had looked away. I wondered what he must think of me. Did he think highly of me for killing someone? I wondered how easy it had been for him to pull that trigger and the same hollow, aching feeling that had been invoked within me upon seeing the despairing miners returned. It lingered with me the entire shuttle back to the ship. In the hangar bay, the shuttles emptied out. Soldiers chatted happily with the cadets once Phasma relieved them from duty.

I watched one former cadet in particular for a moment stay back, go in the other direction. I wanted to follow him, but just then, Phasma came up to me.

"Riala, you should see the medic," she said, concerned. I looked up to her and nodded. "You've been very quiet… I know the first is always the hardest."

I managed a dismissive shake of my head. "I'm fine, Sir, I just need a shower."

"My quarters are open," she said, tilting the helmet so that it glinted in the bright lights of the hangar bay. I was a filthy mess, and she shone like an idol. I felt a weak nudge in my gut, but it immediately fell flat, weighted down by the heaviness in my chest. "I always feel so riled up after a mission," she continued and sighed. "After you get cleaned up and cleared by the medic, you can come see me. If you want."

I breathed deep to alleviate the ache in my heart, but nothing helped. I nodded, smiled so that she could see it in my eyes, and watched her leave. Part of me wanted to accept her offer. I could imagine the comfort I might find curled in her strong arms as I told her everything, unburdened myself of the thoughts that had been haunting me. I wanted nothing more than to tell her everything that I'd experienced that day. I wished that I could confess my fears that Lord Snoke had no intention of letting me continue to learn under Kylo Ren and what a dangerous position that put me in, expressed my doubts about the morality behind the Order's doctrine. But Captain Phasma was a loyal soldier, first and foremost. She might try to listen, try to help, but she would be obligated to report any misgivings she had about me to her superiors.

I didn't go to the medics. Aside from a bitten tongue, I knew that I was uninjured. I knew that the Order provided psychological counseling for soldiers, but I doubted that what I was feeling had a cure so simple as what they offered shell-shocked Stormtroopers. I was hesitant to go back to the barracks for fear of having to explain why I was covered in blood when everyone else on my team were nearly spotless. I decided to move quickly. Somewhere along the way, there was an announcement over the PA system and I felt the star destroyer shrug into hyperspace. Even without the announcement, I would have recognized the faint ripple which traveled through the solid structure around me. It only stopped me momentarily this time.

When I got to the barracks, only two other soldiers were there changing out of their uniforms. I recognized them as the male and female Stormtroopers who'd escorted me to level 77 alpha. I could see from across the barracks space that I was not the only one who'd gotten a little bloody. Somehow I hadn't noticed in the lift, but BT-4711 and BT-4623's white armor was scuffed and dirty with smoke and what could have been mud but was probably blood of some kind. It came in all colors, I'd learned. Gran blood, or whatever had spilled out of the puncture in its abdomen, was greyish brown.

The two troopers were chatting inconsequentially and occasionally laughing as they removed their armor plates.

"-good thing to give the cleaners some work. Things've been too quiet anyway."

"Hey it's the girl." That last remark came from the male trooper, BT-4623. They were talking about me. Panic flared. "Hey you. Riala, right?" I tried to ignore him.

"You know her name, Beta," BT-4711 muttered just loud enough for me to make out the words.

"I'm just tryin' to be polite here, Ones. Hey, Riala," he repeated, and finally I looked up as I pulled off my helmet and detached my veil. It would need to be cleaned separately. BT-4623, or Beta as he'd been called, was a medium-brown-skinned man in his early thirties I would have guessed. "There's going to be a little get together in the galley later. For those of us who went on the deployment. You can come if you want."

Ones, as Beta had referred to her, took off her white helmet and revealed the face of a pale-skinned woman, younger than Beta by a few years. She was looking at me suspiciously, and I quickly looked down and started to remove my armor plating, focusing very intently on it. "I've got some studying to do. Thanks, though."

Beta shrugged, and neither of them spared me any more thought, though Ones continued to speak in hushed tones. I didn't care what she was saying, I just wanted them to leave so I could be alone. After a moment, they did, carrying their soiled armor and their gear with them, I assumed, to the cleaners. I knew from ship schematics where the cleaners were, and I decided to go later, perhaps when the rest of the deployed squads were celebrating. For now, I stripped down to my under armor suit and boots, and kept the detachable visor and earpiece loosely around my neck. I grabbed a small bag with a fresh bodysuit in it, lacking anything else to change into, and tucked my data pad in as well.

I made quick use of the communal shower for our section of the barracks. It had an open floor plan, but no one else was in there. Grateful for the silence, I let the water wash away the blood, taking extra care to scrub the drying flakes off of my mouth. With my eyes closed and my forehead against the wall of the otherwise unoccupied shower, I couldn't cast away the images and the feelings of killing that miner. No matter how much soap I used, or how hot or cold I made the water flow, the guttural braying of the Gran as it tried to keep its guts inside of its body clung to me like a stain on the inside of my skull. Eventually, the water automatically shut off and I had to step out.

With a shudder that almost turned into retching, I stumbled to one of the body dryers and didn't wait for it to finish before I pulled on the clean bodysuit. I didn't bother with my hair, but for the first time, I found that I didn't really need to. A small thing, but no less appreciated.

Just as I was leaving, a small mixed-gender group of soldiers entered. I thought I heard combat sims mentioned, but I didn't pay attention. I separated myself from them as quickly as I could and sought out some quiet part of the ship where I could at least pretend to be studying. That way, if Ones or Beta happened to see me, they wouldn't assume I'd been lying to get out of the social gathering. But then, of course, I realized with a bitter smile, such a scenario would likely not even come up. They didn't actually care; the invitation had been an insincere pleasantry. Either because of my association with Kylo Ren or because I was Force-sensitive, I wasn't sure which, they knew I didn't belong with them.

My efforts to find a quiet place in this section of the ship were fruitless. The star destroyer, with a capacity for many tens of thousands, was apparently outfitted with a full compliment. I realized belatedly that I'd left my soiled body suit in the shower room and mentally kicked myself. There was no way I was going back there, but it gave some insight into my current state. My thoughts were disjointed and out of sorts. For some reason, I found it difficult to focus on any one thing, and the memory of the deep, dark mines was so sharp and vivid that any thought of them took me away from my present surroundings. I didn't want to go back there, so I forced myself to think about other things. What did soldiers do to unwind, I wondered? Phasma had admitted herself that she was always a little 'riled up' after a deployment. Whatever that meant. If it had been anyone but Phasma, I might have assumed that she meant sex, but even now I could picture the statuesque woman working out her energy in the officer's active training complex.

Sex. That would help, I thought, and then, as I dodged a trooper that I recognized from the team I'd been with in Pressy's Tumble, I inwardly laughed at myself. There was no way I was in the mood for that, and the only person I might want to take physical comfort in was the very person I decided I didn't want to see right now. No, I just wanted a quiet, dark place to gather my thoughts. Maybe listen to some music on my datapad. I wondered if I would have access to the senior officer's deck and the observation rooms there, probably not.

Eventually, after wandering aimlessly (but walking with false purpose so that no one would question me), I managed to find myself on the deck beneath the cadet training complex. I only encountered one petty officer, but the man spared me no thought, deep into whatever was on his datapad. To my amazement, there was a small shipside hothouse room hidden out of the way, tucked into the end of a long corridor past maintenance supplies and storage rooms. The room was warm, and when the door opened, a rush of humidity hit me, and the green smell of growing things. Its shape was long and narrow. The main space was unlit, but along the back wall where the door to the corridor were rows of hydroponic plant holders with different species, each in individual pockets, all growing under strips of soft UV spectrum lighting.

The side walls were similarly lined. Straight ahead, however, was the most mesmerizing sight. I knew I was in the underbelly of the ship, toward the outside, for lining the wall opposite the door at waist-height, was a long, low row of view ports. The transparent plastisteel panes were set inward at an angle to the floor as if their addition cut off the bottom corner. Through the port, I could see the blur of hyperspace. It was impossible to determine a direction, looking into that streak of static, a blur of white and black, and for a moment, I was frozen in my place, all troubles forgotten, comforted by the low hum of the dim hydroponic garden's lights and the sight outside, at once chaotic and peaceful. The warmth and moisture in the air was borderline uncomfortable, but I felt that the solitude made it worth it to stay. I stepped closer to the low window bank.

A noise broke the spell, and I turned just in time to see a young man, white helmet tucked under an arm, already halfway turned as if to walk back out the door. Our eyes met.

"Sorry- I didn't know anyone was down here. I'll just leave." FN-2187 was clearly startled, made as if to leave again, but I raised my hand to stop him.

"Wait. I'll leave."

"No no, you were here first. I'm just- I was just-" He stuttered and then stopped, his eyes fixed somewhere past me. "Wow."

I followed his gaze, and I saw that he was looking at the view of hyperspace. I sighed. "Yeah."

After a moment, I heard the faint rattle of armor, and heavy footsteps as the young man moved further into the room. Without thinking about it, I reached out with my senses. Strangely, apart from his life force, I couldn't get a clear read on him. I was briefly puzzled, enough to find out more about him.

"You ever go into hyperspace before?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I've never actually seen it," he answered. "They say it can drive you mad if you look for too long."

"Might be nice," I replied, though I really had no idea what I meant when I said it. I thought about the Gran again, shook my head to get rid of the phantom sensation of blood on me. I wondered how cognizant it had been when it attacked me. I hoped that whatever had driven it to madness had saved it from the full awareness of its impending death. FN-2187 cleared his throat.

"Look, if you want to be alone, I can—"

"No," I said quickly, looking at him, studying his face. He looked so young. I might not have been able to sense his emotions, but I could see them in his eyes plainly. Something was troubling him. Unlike any of his comrades, FN-2187 wasn't acting the part of a victorious soldier. "I thought I did. But now I'm not so sure."

He shifted in his place, as though mildly uncomfortable, and then he shrugged nonchalantly. "Me too."

I lingered on him a little longer, surprised by how thinly he disguised his emotions, but then I looked back to the exterior of the ship. We both just stood there, watching the streaks of light fly by the line of windows, and after a moment, I moved forward. The floor in front of the windows was a step down from the level with the hydroponic garden, and I gently sat on the edge of that step now, arms wrapped around my knees.

"I've never been in a fight like that before," I said after a moment, knowing how reckless it was to confide in a soldier I didn't know, but right then, I needed to talk to _someone_ about the experience, even if he called me a fool for it. There was something about the openness of his face that made me feel like I could let my guard down, if just for a moment. "I've never killed anyone before."

There was a pause, and then the white-armored figure approached and joined me sitting on the step a short, careful distance away, legs falling casually open, wrists resting on his thighs. He sighed. "Me neither. I mean… I still haven't."

I looked at him, and when I spoke, I was careful to keep any hint of accusation out of my voice. "I was standing outside of the room when you assisted with the 'negotiations.'"

FN-2187 let out a long, low breath and then fell quiet. "I didn't actually shoot anyone. My team took care of that."

The strange impressions I'd gotten of him were starting to fall into place. His silence, his lack of excitement after the mission, the way he seemed to always be separate from the rest of them. He was very unlike his teammates. "Why not?"

"I don't know," he said, clearly struggling with the matter himself. Subtly, I inched toward him, bothered by the tension in his brow. I hadn't noticed before, but I now saw a thin sheen of quickly drying sweat on his forehead. He had gone somewhere else after we returned, I remembered. Maybe he was someone who liked to work out excess energy in exercise.

"I just…" he let out another huff of air, his eyes still distantly fixed on the floor. "Something about the Abednedo's face stopped me. He was scared. They all were. It didn't feel…" suddenly, he trailed off as if he only now remembered I was present. He glanced at me sideways, pulled his helmet onto his lap and started to fidget with it.

"I know what you mean." I said simply, still watching him. He looked at me directly now and searched my face. His full lips were serious and his expressive, arched brows were low over his eyes, heavy with uneasiness.

"I've got top marks in all the sims. They're easy. Everything is clearer there. You know who the enemy is, what the goal is. But the sims don't show you what fear looks like in an unarmed opponent. They don't prepare you for the smell of blood."

"I thought the slave sparring was supposed to take care of that." The statement was delivered in a neutral voice, but inside, I was preparing myself for unpleasant territory. I saw the whites of his eyes in my peripheral vision as he looked at me.

"Phasma never had us do that. She thought it was barbaric," he replied. A pleasant, cozy feeling filled my middle and made the room feel even warmer. I was relieved, both about Phasma's character and that this man had never been on that end of the systematic abuse that constituted the anti-empathy training. "How do you know about that? You weren't in the Stormtrooper program were you?"

I gave him a grim smile as I debated how much to tell him. On a wild impulse, I decided to be completely honest, no matter how the truth would affect his opinion of me. "Up until a couple of months ago, I was known as 221784-R," I said matter-of-factly. I watched the comprehension dawn on his face as he recognized the format of a slave's designation and waited for the inevitable distaste or any sign of prejudice. None came. Instead, all I saw was bare-faced sympathy.

"They took me from my family, too. When I was a baby." Now it was my turn to be surprised. He may not have been fully aware of his body language, but I didn't miss how he moved the hand that was closer to me to the floor next to him and shifted his weight so that he leaned his upper body against it, tilting himself toward me slightly. "I don't remember anything, though."

"Me neither," I lied. "Have you ever wondered what your life would have been like if you'd never been recruited?" I asked, stretching my legs out in front of me. I was starting to feel a little overly warm from the atmosphere settings in the room. I imagined that FN-2187, in his full armor, must have been even more so, but if he was, he gave no indication. For a moment, it was easy to forget the completely different lives we'd come from. FN-2187 was likely no more than 22 or 23 years old, practically the same age as myself, just a young man in the trappings of a soldier.

"No…" he answered hesitantly. "All I've known is the Order. I don't know any other life." I could tell that the question made him a little uncomfortable, but he didn't lose his relaxed posture. I caught him stealing glances at me while we talked, and I admittedly did the same, until our eyes accidentally met, and with a jolt of embarrassment, we both looked away.

"It's just that… some people, like General Hux, Captain Phasma, they all seem like they were born for this life. But I just think that if the Order hadn't found me, maybe I would be doing something else." I absently tapped my fingers on my knees.

"You should be careful with thoughts like that," Finn said with an edge of dark humor. "You wouldn't want Phasma to send you for reconditioning."

It wasn't funny, not really, but we shared an awkward laugh anyway, companions in our servitude. Then both sat in the quiet, listening to the hum of the UV lights, watching hyperspace swirl and streak outside of the windows. I don't know what it was about him, but I felt more relaxed in his company than I had in awhile, especially considering that we barely knew one another. The tension that had settled into my whole body since we returned from the deployment was starting to loosen. I shifted my weight to sit more comfortably, to lean back on my arms. In the process, my small finger accidentally brushed his. It was an innocent gesture, but once our skin made contact, I found that I didn't want to move my hand away. Neither did he, apparently, so they stayed, each of us acting as though we hadn't noticed.

"So what now?" He asked. I turned to search his face for any subtle meaning, my thoughts were on how I would have liked to just move my hand slightly and curl my fingers through his, but he was looking straight ahead. "I'm a _Stormtrooper_. That means no more sims. Just the real thing, like the mines, from now on. For the rest of my life." He was speaking of the daunting future that lay before him. I'd been thinking about holding hands. I was glad for the fact that he wasn't currently watching me because he might have misinterpreted my self-deprecative eye roll.

"We do what we must to survive," I answered, looking away from him, feeling a little heavy-hearted.

"Riala, right?" He was looking at me again.

"Yes. I'm sure you've heard plenty about me by now." I thought back to the few interactions I'd had with the other Stormtroopers. They hadn't exactly been afraid of me, but I didn't sense open-armed trust either.

"I've heard talk," he said before falling silent. I glanced at him curiously and was met with a nervous, fluttery emotional feedback from him as he avoided looking at me. I was confused for a moment until it dawned on me.

"I assure you, I can't read minds."

"Oh, sure. Right. Obviously."

I smirked and snorted under my breath, finding that I was utterly disarmed by his candor.

"So I guess I will just have to ask you out loud." He said more quietly. I sighed, and tried to prepare myself for whatever invasive question he had about my slavery or Kylo Ren, or some other extremely personal aspect of my life. I would have to find a way to deny him politely. I faced the windows and waved my hand disdainfully.

"What do you want to know?"

"Can I kiss you?"

For a moment, the words didn't register and I looked at him with unguarded astonishment. His emotional feedback was nervous, hopeful, and curious. But for every second that passed without an answer, the nervousness began to overtake the other two. I forced my sluggish brain to react.

"Yes, please do," I answered a little too quickly. I winced inwardly at my choice of words, but his relief was contagious and my worries dissolved. I met his eyes and was instantly taken aback by the total lack of guile in them. They unnerved me in a way I would never have predicted, to judge by the company I usually kept. No one had ever asked my permission to kiss me before. At least, not without groveling, naked and desperate, at my feet first; in those cases I was usually inclined to deny the request. I felt a cold sense of satisfaction to think about this soldier's superior had called me his master.

And then FN-2187 was leaning forward. The moment his lips touched mine, my mind went completely blank, all malicious pleasure and ego gone.

All I was conscious of was the warmth and the sweetness of the kiss, and the fact that his hand was sitting fully on top of mine now, and that it was warm as well, just like the rest of him. Just like the feelings inside of him. Then my thoughts caught up to me and I remembered what lay ahead of him as a Stormtrooper. My heart began to ache to think of him becoming a battle-hardened killer for the First Order, of his warmth turning cold. I broke the kiss and turned away, momentarily lost in the encroaching darkness inside of me. I could almost see, as if imprinted on the back of my eyelids, the glint of the blaster bolts in the eyes of my deranged attacker and smell the decay hanging around the sad, dead things in the mines burned into my nostrils.

A warm hand tightened around mine, bringing me back into the present. FN-2187 was looking at me with a perplexed wrinkle in his forehead. The emotional feedback I was getting from him was and mixture of concern, confusion, and delight. I found myself smiling at him involuntarily, and he responded with a tentatively roguish smirk of his own.

"I'd like to give you something, if it's alright with you," I said slowly, looking down at our hands. I turned my hand so that our palms touched and, giving in to my earlier impulse, threaded my fingers through his. I savoring every nerve ending that touched his skin.

"You've already given me a lot," he answered, his voice quiet. I looked back to his face, asking him permission with my eyes. I didn't know what good it would do him in the long run, but for now, I wanted to alleviate his worries and uncertainties. He deserved to feel happy. At least for a little while. Finally, he nodded, watching me.

I closed my eyes and centered my mind on the feel of his hand on mine, the lingering warmth of his lips. Inside of me was a sort of murky fog of dark emotions and memories. It sat thickly around my heart, made it feel heavy. I willed them aside, pushed them back. There, flickering bravely deep within me, defiant against the darkness, was my own happiness. It was a fragile thing, half-starved and reedy at the moment, but stubborn. Drawing a small tendril from its center, I threaded it down my arm and through my fingertips. I heard FN-2187 sigh contentedly as the feeling sank into his skin.

I felt the hint of old memories, pleasant ones, rising to the surface as I accessed this fount of gentle power. The scent of woodsmoke, and some kind of spicy herb tickled my nose, but I disregarded it. After a moment, I slowed, and then stopped, the flow of energy so as not to deplete it. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me.

He opened his mouth to say something, but just then, a voice sounded over the PA system from a speaker somewhere in the room.

"Prepare for hyperspace exit." Both of us fixed our gazes on the low bank of windows in time to catch the streaks of white against black shrink back to stationary points. As if conjured, the white orb of Starkiller Base grew in size as we approached orbit until the scarred, snowy surface filled the entirety of our view.

Almost simultaneously, my datapad sounded a message alert from somewhere in my bag. Realizing that I still held the young man's hand, I reluctantly let go of it so I could root around in my bag for the handheld screen. The message was from Kylo Ren. His shuttle would be docking on the Finalizer before too long, and doubtless he wanted me to greet him. I let out my breath in a small huff, wanting more than anything to be able to stay right there in the overly warm hydroponic garden room with FN-2187.

"Back to it, I guess," he said with clear disappointment, whatever he'd been poised to say before the interruption, now forgotten. Without any particular urgency, we both climbed to our feet, myself after accepting his offered hand. I absently brushed myself off as he retrieved his helmet from the floor. We stood there for a moment, him fidgeting lightly with his helmet in both hands.

"I'm glad I met you," he said before I had the chance to say something similar. "I hope…" he cleared his throat and his eyes flickered to the helmet before returning to me. "I hope you find what you need. Whatever it is you're looking for."

I thought of the dead General Rhidan, a remarkably pleasant man, despite his career in service to the Order, and I thought about how it had eventually gotten him killed. But still, if such a person could survive for so long with his good humor and kind spirit intact, perhaps there was hope for this young soldier.

"You're a good man," I said. "Don't let them take that from you."

Before he could respond, I left the room and walked hurriedly away. The door closed behind me and my heart pounded as I thought about how my warning could have been interpreted as treasonous, or at the very least, insane. It was an impossible request, but I'd meant every word of it. Forcing myself to set aside such tangled and complex thoughts, I focused instead on the petty, superficial requirements ahead of me.


	35. A Night of Fire and Blood

"I will need either a full name or a designation," the gunmetal grey armory droid articulated in a metallic female voice. Behind me was the usual din of armory activity. It seemed that everyone else was too busy to be concerned with me.

"I don't _have_ a last name and I don't have a designation anymore. I've already said this." After a few circular interactions with this particular droid, I was starting to get frustrated. I was in a hurry to change into something more appropriate than my black body glove, but with my wardrobe and belongings back on the base, I didn't have many options.

" _Surely_ you have a name," the droid said, sounding completely dubious. It was showing a surprising, and unwelcome, amount of personality for an artificial intelligence, and for not having any facial expressions it certainly seemed to be the embodiment of mechanical pretentiousness. With its large, round photoreceptors and small rectangular mouth, it looked permanently startled. I scowled and gestured helplessly to the bag of gore-encrusted armor that I'd placed on the counter.

"Can't you just clean it? I don't have time for this."

"I apologize, but I will need more information to ensure that the items get back to their correct owner." The tinny, polite voice was beginning to rankle me. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I heard it emphasize the word 'correct' as if it were implying that I was a con artist with sack full of stolen items. I could feel the serenity I'd gained from my meeting with FN-2187 diminishing.

"Look," I said, feeling ridiculous that I had to try to explain my situation to a droid. "My name is Riala. I'm Kylo Ren's apprentice. Can't you just scan me or something?"

"Our bio scan system is down at the moment, but I still have access to the databases. If you just give me your personnel number-"

"This is unbelievable," I interrupted, my voice starting to rise. The fact that I couldn't read the droid like I could a human made this entire situation even more unbearable. I was ready to snatch my armor back and shove it out an airlock if it meant I didn't have to continue with it.

"Riala," a human voice called from my right. CTO McHenry approached the counter, smiling but looking a little more tired than the last time I saw her. I was so relieved to find a familiar face, I actually cracked a brief smile in return until I remembered why I was getting my armor cleaned in the first place.

"I'm trying to get this taken care of, but this bucket of bolts is giving me some difficulty."

"Bucket of bolts? I _beg_ your pardon-" the droid started.

"Shut up," McHenry interrupted the droid. "It's under NMO-one-one-three. Include an exception for the name 'Riala' from now on. Top priority."

The droid nodded after a moment. "Right away, sir." It looked at me one last time before grabbing the bag and shuffling stiffly into the back room. McHenry sighed wearily.

"Sorry about that. That damn droid is a nuisance. Probably due for a recalibration soon..."

"I didn't know I had a designation," I said. She turned to look at me and the polite smile returned to her face.

"NMO means non-military official. It's kind of an in-between status, but I suppose you haven't needed to use it. Anyone with half a brain knows who you are. How did the equipment perform?"

I looked down to my hand which was resting on the counter. For some reason, I wasn't quite able to form the words to answer her question. It felt as though I still had blood on me despite my shower. "The low light vision on the visor didn't work well in high contrast, but I didn't need it anyway."

McHenry was entering something into the datapad she was holding, and with an absent smile, said "you must have good night vision."

I was still looking at my hand. I saw blood under my nails, a greyish-brown line beneath the white crescent on each finger which gave away the dark deed it had committed. I would need to scrub them more thoroughly.

"The Force showed me more than I wanted to see," I answered indistinctly. I was thinking about the way the negotiators' life signs had flickered out one by one, accompanied by the muffled peppering of blaster fire. I caught a brief, curious glance from the armory CTO before her eyes returned to the data pad in her hands.

"Well we certainly don't want the armor to interfere with your abilities. We'll take care of that visor a-sap." I could sense that she felt a little uncomfortable. Just as I was trying to think of a more normal thing to say, I felt my chest tighten. He was on the ship. Relief flooded me.

"I have to go," I said, glad for any reason to end this exchange. McHenry opened her mouth to say something else, but I was gone.

I followed my senses to find his location, weaving through Stormtrooper patrols and other personnel in route to their stations. I had so much that I wanted to tell him, and so much still that I couldn't. He was standing at an intersection with multiple lifts, talking to a high ranking tech over whom he towered. She seemed to be in the midst of reporting something to him, but he dismissed her as soon as I drew near. Around us, other personnel tried to continue on their way to the lifts without getting between us, though in the busy intersection, this was difficult. I felt his aura reach for me, but it was more like a question than an invasive demand. I answered by letting my barriers slip slightly, just enough to give him a taste of some of my frustration and tension. In our meeting with Snoke, he'd told me that there would be no more secrets between us. I knew it would be best to maintain that appearance as well as I could without letting him in completely.

" **Captain Phasma's brief reported a success. She even made mention of your admirable performance.** **So tell me why you are troubled.** "

Right to the heart of it, I thought. "I was attacked, sir. A miner-" I was interrupted as a black shape, followed by an excited, chattering group of officers, halted beside us pointedly. It was General Hux, and he was looking plainly tense. His eyes were narrowed beneath his cap as he looked at the other man, and his greatcoat was draped over his broad shoulders like a cape. The officers behind him fell silent.

"Ren, you are needed on the bridge," he grated. And then, through clenched teeth, " _now_." His pale eyes, cold with fury, flickered to me with negligible interest and looked away. Then they snapped back, widened in recognition. Red crept into his face and he tilted it down ever so slightly as if he meant to hide beneath his cap. He hadn't recognized me without my customary uniform and braids. "As soon as you're finished here," he amended.

Without further word to me or Kylo Ren, he stepped toward an open lift, which immediately emptied upon his approach. His followers joined him and the lift's original occupants decided to wait for the next one.

" **Let's talk somewhere more quiet,** " Kylo Ren said, drawing my attention back to him.

"Don't you have a meeting to go to?"

" **There's no rush,** " he said. I thought I detected a hint of humor in his steely timbre.

* * *

He led me to his quarters and as soon as we stepped through the doors, the lights turned up to half power and the terminal displays on the far wall flickered on. The center one showed a live feed of the exterior of the ship with half of the screen depicting the top and the other giving a view from underneath. Both pointed toward the white globe with the single red eye on its equator that was Starkiller Base. I noticed that the office door on the left side of the room, the one that I'd been so curious about before, was now unlocked. I followed Kylo Ren's tall form as he walked over to it and leaned against the wall casually. He crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly unaware of the tantalizing mystery next to him.

"I gather from the General's demeanor that the mission did not go well," I said first, so that I wouldn't have to talk about my own mission to the mines just yet.

" **Not exactly,"** he answered. He sounded almost eager to tell of it. " **The Resistance, masquerading as pirates, stole sensitive information out of our hands. Our operative has been compromised, and it won't be long until the Resistance realizes what they have.** " I was a little taken aback by his attitude, which was much more upbeat than I would have expected while delivering such terrible news.

"And this is… bad, right?"

" **In a way yes. But it also means that w** **e can finally fulfill the Supreme Leader's orders.** **Through Hux's blunder, we'll be forced to act quickly. He doesn't need my help to plan the next step. He knows what he has to do.** "

With perfect timing, an announcement sounded from the bank of displays. The voice warned of the ship's imminent entry into hyperspace. Destination: the Western Reaches, Jakku star system. Eta was three hours. On cue, I felt the ship shudder as it leaped forward. The view on the displays showed the starry points of light stretch until they were streaks.

Kylo Ren nodded before waving his hand and muting the terminals with a gesture. " **As I said. He didn't need me.** " He turned back to me. " **Tell me what happened on your mission.** "

"I entered the deep mines with a squad of soldiers," I answered readily with the ease of a statement well-prepared. "We encountered a group of armed insurgents... we were victorious."

" **I know this already. Tell me why you are upset.** "

There was no avoiding it. "I was attacked by a crazed miner, so I stabbed him. And then he was shot dead."

" **Stabbed him? Why didn't you use the Force to incapacitate him?** "

I swallowed, getting lost somewhere in the shadow between the bottom of his mask and his chest. I felt as though I were back in there again, deep under the surface in a lightless world. "I tried. It didn't have any effect."

" **T** **here will be times when your control over the Force will fail. You must be prepared to use other tactics. This was the purpose behind your combat training, Riala. Do not let it trouble you, simply learn from it.** "

"He wasn't even armed," I argued.

" **You will face worthier opponents soon enough** ," he said, completely misreading the reasoning behind my distress. He sounded as though he were trying to reassure me and it grated my nerves.

"You aren't _listening_ ," I snapped, surprised with my own sudden anger. I seemed to be unable to stop myself. "He tried to kill me with a _rock_ , with a squad of Stormtroopers in the next room. That hellish place had driven him mad."

" **You weren't there to inspect working conditions,** " he answered harshly, his voice all the more threatening for the filter. " **You were there to learn about combat and aid the mission.** " I could feel his temper rising, and I clenched my fists to keep from slapping him. What was I doing?

"I _know_ ," I said. the heat leaving me rapidly. I didn't know why I was so angry. Everything he said was true. I'd even looked forward to the mission. I was eager to see some action and test my abilities. I felt my lip tremble and moisture collect in the corners of my eyes. I quickly turned away before he could see. I then used my sleeve to dab at the corner of my eyes covertly. After a minute, I felt a hand light on my lower back from behind. I turned my face to look over my shoulder at the black shape that was somehow both comforting and frustrating.

" **You have lost your focus** ," he said, all anger gone. " **There will be no more deployments until you regain it.** "

"You wanted to face Lor San Tekka together," I reminded him.

" **You are in no state for further combat,** " he responded firmly. " **Any chance of failure is too much. The stakes are much higher now. The General has seen to it.** " I noticed that his hand was still on me, though now it rested, curved, around the side of my waist.

"I'm a liability."

" **Yes."** I hated to admit that this stung a little, even if he didn't intend offense, and I looked away. A gloved hand on my chin brought me back. " **Facing Lor San Tekka is a small matter. Your chance for glory will come later. Show the Supreme Leader your value as an asset to the Dark Side when we return victorious with the blood of the last Jedi on our hands. If he is sufficiently impressed, we may yet fight many battles together."**

For a moment, I was lost in the thrilling mental imagery of that fantasy, and I felt somewhat heartened by it. I wanted to believe him, wanted just a fraction of his conviction. I existed in a very different world, however, and I could see it for the folly that it was.

"So I'm to, what… meditate? Until you get back?"

" **If it will bring you renewed focus, yes. Meditate. Practice your combat technique. Study holos on the art of warfare. I have a few in my databanks, if that interests you. Do whatever it takes, Riala, to get past whatever is blocking you now."**

I glanced toward the terminal displays and wondered how much idle time he'd spent watching these holos in here. I let my imagination wander to a pleasant image of us sitting and watching one together, perhaps discussing it over hotcaff or tea, myself cozy under his blanket. The blanket in my imagination was torn away and the setting changed against my will. I find myself in a cold, damp tomb, kilometers below any surface touched by sunlight, without any hope for escape. Even considering the sweet relief that death would bring me. I shook my head and blinked, momentarily dazed. He was watching me.

"You're right," I said, though the admission was entirely unnecessary. He'd seen enough to know. "I will have to find a quiet place to gather my thoughts, though with a full crew and military complement onboard, I doubt it will be easy." The barracks was certainly out of the question. I didn't want to chance another meeting with FN-2187. I'd interfered with his life enough as it was.

" **You may use my quarters if you like. Hux has seen fit to fill the next few hours with yet more meetings. He seems to enjoy punishing others for his own mistakes."**

"Perhaps you shouldn't keep him waiting," I suggested, finding that now, more than anything else, I wanted to be alone. The hand resting on my side tightened a little before dropping away and returning to its position crossed over his chest and tucked under the other arm.

" **I suppose so."** He seemed to be lost in thought. " **Find me after the deployment."** He moved to leave, and my eyes flickered involuntarily to his office door. As he passed, he waved his hand subtly and the security panel next to the door flashed from green to red as it was locked. And then he left me alone, wondering if he'd sensed my curiosity

He wanted me to get past my emotional block, but the last thing I wanted to do was revisit my experiences in Pressylla. I'd been avoiding thinking about it ever since my return, with varying results. That damned mining facility seemed to have a habit of resurfacing any moment that my thoughts drifted. The last thing I wanted was to freeze in the middle of a firefight or a lightsaber battle.

I wasn't ready, yet, however. There were too many potential distractions, even in this quiet place. I hadn't eaten in some time, for one thing, so I used Kylo Ren's terminal to order hot food, something fried and unhealthy, and a pot of tea. I settled on the couch for a moment, pulling my favorite black blanket from his chair and dropping it over my shoulders, letting my mind go blank as I watched the impressionistic blur of hyperspace fly by on the live feed. I thought about how FN-2187 had mentioned the superstition of hyperspace madness, and with a mild defiance, I made myself look into it, trying to discern any quality that might cause such a reaction. It was a little unsettling how the images shifted, somehow looking flat and three dimensional at once, but I didn't feel insanity lurking in those streaks of white against black. Or were they streaks of black against white?

The front door chimed and I opened it from the console built into Kylo Ren's chair. A small barrel-bodied droid on two short legs wheeled in, laden with a hotbox of food, a pot of tea, and what looked like a small armor crate. My items from the armory.

"Over here," I ordered it. It beeped and then rolled over and gently deposited the items on the low table in front of me before gliding out again. The food smelled delicious: breaded and fried avian and crispy root vegetables with sauce. Likely the prompt service was due to the origin of the order as Kylo Ren's quarters. I dove in immediately, not realizing until then just how hungry I'd been.

It was the best food I'd ever eaten, or at least it seemed that way to my very empty stomach. When was the last time I'd eaten anyway? I couldn't remember. There had been times in my life when I'd had to go without food for stretches of time. Usually as punishment, and once or twice there had actually been shortages due to shipment mix-ups. But if nothing else, the First Order was strict about maintaining the condition of its assets and far more than not, I could count on regular meals.

I supposed that the same consideration didn't go toward the more peripheral charges of the organization such as miners in a distant asteroid belt. As I chewed, my eyes went out of focus. Hollow faces stared at me silently from the dark wearing the standard mine safety helmets with infrared visors. The saggy uniforms didn't conceal their malnourished figures and as they watched me from a shadowed corner of my mind, I felt their judgement. My chewing slowed. When I swallowed, it felt as though it were a rock that was sliding toward my stomach. The hand holding the leg of meat lowered, and I looked down at the bite I'd taken. The juicy animal flesh glistened wetly on the bone; just a moment ago, it had been most appetizing, but as I stared at the container, the smell of rot seemed to waft out of it. Nausea started to rise acidly in the back of my mouth. I put the food back in the box. Somewhere deep in my chest, I felt that a small hole had been bored and I was caving in around that hollow point.

A painful swell rose in my throat, overcoming the nausea, and when it broke my lips, it was a sob.

I gripped the box in my hands and cried. Ugly sounds from deep inside of me which seemed to originate from that hollowness. Tears spilled and wet my face, and I was glad to be alone. I'd never lost control over myself in such a way, not that I could remember. Always kept it inside, as if showing such emotion would expose me for attack. Now, however, I felt that if I had tried to keep it contained, I might have ruptured from the inside. So I let go. For long minutes, I could do nothing else.

I cried until I was depleted, exhausted, and until my throat was raw. My cries slowed to a trickle and then stopped until I was quaking and sniffling silently. I wiped my nose on my sleeve.

Then, when I felt that I could breathe again, and that my hand would stop shaking, I poured myself some tea. I drank until my throat felt better. Kylo Ren had wanted me to focus, to meditate. He wanted me to learn from my experience in the mine. I looked at the rest of the food I'd ordered. Lacking any sort of appetite, I poked it. Then, in a spontaneous fit of rage, I threw the empty food container toward the front door. It made a mess where it spilled and I wiped my greasy fingers on his couch. I didn't care, droids could come clean it later. This childish act of defiance didn't soothe the dreadful ache in my chest, however. I gazed numbly at the monitors.

Hyperspace seemed fairly peaceful, on the live feeds at least. I reached out curiously with my Darksight. The decks of the ship around me began to fill in, populated by individual sparks of life. I was astounded by the sheer number of people on this ship at this moment, moving and living and breathing all at once. As my sphere of perception spread to the levels below and beside me, it also swelled above me. I could sense the command bridge above and to the rear, but there was also a wide angle of empty space directly above. Hyperspace. When I concentrated, I could sense it. Reaching for it felt like dipping my toes into a rushing river with swells and eddies. It was swift enough that it would sweep me away if I didn't guard my step, though I wasn't sure what that actually would mean, or if it were possible. I could imagine that we were passing many star systems and other celestial objects that might, by their nature, draw the Force to them. The geometry and physics of spacetime within hyperspace didn't follow the normal rules, though, so there was no telling exactly what I was sensing. It was part exhilarating and part frightening, and I wondered if it were possible to leave my body and dive into that stream, to follow it wherever it would take me.

Dizzy, I withdrew my perception to regain my bearings.

I shut out all external information and the world around me went dark, and then I considered directing my sights inward. Looking inside of myself with the Darksight was like trying to turn my eyes around backwards. Kylo Ren and I had done this once or twice during our time aboard this ship together, but it was always far more difficult to examine myself than it was to see the external universe. He even found it somewhat challenging. It was just another method of meditating, he'd said dismissively. It wasn't vital. Usually I just felt the founts of power that I drew strength from. I didn't think about them or their structure, or how they interacted with the rest of my power flow, I just knew that they were there. The vision granted me by the Force allowed me to follow its own trail as it passed through me. For some reason I felt the need to do it now.

I stilled my mind until it sank beneath my skin, until it seemed as though that skin had dissolved. The Jedi believed that all living things were luminous convergences of Force energy. That the flesh and blood which bound us were only shells, and that upon death, we would rejoin the flow of the universe. I didn't believe that any more than I believed in the Dathomiri fanged god, but when I saw myself like this, I could understand where the thought had originated. I was a being of light, only loosely bound together by my flesh. Glowing motes in constant motion comprised my form. They simultaneously drifted outward to the exterior and sank into me, never pausing, in perpetual circular motion, forever giving and receiving energy.

I could see that they seemed to stick in some places, catch briefly in their movement so that those places seemed brighter. Where my chest would be, and lower, at the base of my spine. In my head, as well. Since I wasn't seeing with my eyes, I wasn't limited by their position in my skull. My founts of energy, I realized. I focused on them, how they looked, and how they felt.

My shoulders loosened. My breaths slowed.

One by one, every muscle and joint in my body shed its tension. I felt my heartbeats diminish until they were nearly quiet.

Where my heartbeat had once been was now the crackle of flames. Interestingly, the way the Force manifested to me resembled sparks and embers rising above a fire. It was peaceful in the way that fire uniquely could be, with the distinct potential for danger as well.

I smelled wood smoke, heard a rushing in my ears. And then I was no longer on the ship.

Unspooling below me was the serene, curving landscape of Starkiller Base, silent but for the sound of what must have been wind by my ears; though I was not sure that I possessed ears here. I was dreaming, but I'd never before seen this while awake. Had I fallen asleep? My anxiety started to climb as the dream progressed the way it had every time I'd had it, inexorably onward toward the mountains, the cave, the world of metal floors and chaos.

But something was off this time. I didn't hear the sound calling me, the clear bell-like tone that usually accompanied this dream. And the landscape was changing. Above, the skies darkened. Banks of black clouds moved swiftly, blocking the light.

There was a crack of thunder from the slow-moving tempest above, and a bolt of electric light split the sky, cutting through the air directly in front of me. I felt myself begin to descend from my position of great height.

Where the lightning had struck, it left a blackened gash of melted snow and singed rock, like a wound in the mountainside. As I watched, a fount of liquid bubbled up from within in. It was as red as blood. As I watched, it overflowed. It spilled down the side of the mountain toward me. Everything it touched became stained with it. It even seemed to affect the atmosphere; a wash of hot, humid air hit me the same time that the red wave splashed around and beneath my feet.

The flood transformed the landscape. Snow-capped pine trees were replaced with twisted, black growths. Arctic vistas became swamp so suddenly and so completely that I couldn't be sure that it hadn't always been thus. Above me, the sky continued to be obscured by roiling, ominous storm clouds. Distant thunder rumbled.

Beneath me was a thick, syrupy red mire, tangled with roots, and I stood upon the surface of the liquid as solidly as if it were ground. Curiously, I peered down past it. I could see figures beneath the surface, unmoving. The ones nearest to the surface were pale. I knew they were the bodies of the dead. As I looked further around myself, I could see that the entire swamp held a layer of corpses beneath the still red waters. For some reason, however, they didn't frighten me. As I stood, I felt my feet begin to sink. With the logic of a dream, I knew that if I didn't move, I would join them.

So I walked, closely watching the water's surface to avoid tangling my feet in the gnarled, half-exposed tree roots. I could see faces under the water looking up at me from between the submerged roots. Their eyes were wide and unblinking, but I was not afraid of them. I recognized them, and I felt sorrow for their vast numbers. I tried to look closer. Then, as if my scrutiny invigorated them, they began to move, swaying in concert as if caught in some unseen current.

They were not dead. The still waters began to ripple. Hands then broke the surface, rising beneath my feet. Fingers coated in red curled around my heels and lifted me. I continued forward, walking upon them like stepping stones.

With every step I felt the hands, slick with blood, propelling me forward as on a wave. It broke on a rocky bank and my feet touched solid rock. Behind me, the landscape of flesh slipped beneath the water and its surface became still once more. I looked ahead, toward a shadowed clearing in the trees. From far above, there was a crack of thunder, followed closely by a flash of lightning. In the brief light, I could see a steep stone cliff ahead of me with a cave. I went toward it, seeking shelter from the storm. But as I drew nearer, I could see that it was already occupied and lit dimly from within.

A wood fire burned. A figure sat before it with its naked, bony back turned toward me. It was an old woman with long, wild white hair. I came closer. Her thin bird shoulders moved as she touched something in front of her. I was just inside the mouth of the cave, now. I wanted to see what she was was doing, but I also didn't want to draw her attention. Without turning to face me, she spoke in a voice that crackled like burning leaves.

 _"The blood of the mothers bathes the sisters and the brothers…"_ I could almost see her hands, now, thin and bony, knuckles moving beneath the paper thin skin, stirring something with a pointed finger. " _only shade of night bears the fruit of sight."_

Her shoulders and back began to quake, and a strange noise rose from her and echoed on the dark walls of the cave. It was a dry, raspy cackling. I was standing so near to her now that she must have known I was there. I could now see what was on the floor in front of her. Two eyes, round white orbs with cloudy pupils sat askew and glistening in the light of the fire. She continued stirring with her finger and making that strange, frightening noise, moving them in the dirt so that they rolled grotesquely. I could see the fleshy shreds of optic nerve clinging to their backs as they were manipulated on the floor of the cave.

" _Unseeing becomes seen, the path lies in between..."_ she said, almost singsong. As soon as she spoke the last word, the two eyes rolled so that they faced me, and in their cloudy pupils, I knew that they saw me and that they knew me.

I gasped and my eyes flew open. I was gripping the blanket, white knuckled. I looked around myself, but the cave and the old woman was gone; Kylo Ren's quarters were silent and dark. After a second, my thoughts caught up. My heart was pounding, the only sound. Only then became aware of chill dampness on myself. I looked down to see that my mug had spilled, its contents long cold, across my lap and into the couch. I growled with irritation and stood up. Too quickly, it seemed. I gripped the arm of the couch to steady myself as a wave of dizziness overtook me. My stiff joints creaked when I attempted to stand upright again. I glanced at the monitors to get my bearings.

We were no longer in hyperspace. The planet I saw below, yellow and featureless from this distant, was currently experiencing night on the near side. My eyes moved to the small readout of information at the bottom of the screen. The planet below was indeed Jakku, and according to shipside time, the entirety of the three hours, and then some, had passed while I was in my trance. While I was experiencing it, I felt as though an entire night had passed.

With my logical brain functioning again, I began to puzzle over the strange vision. I was having trouble making sense of it. The imagery which didn't frighten me as it unfolded now struck me as very unsettling. Why hadn't I been afraid? What did it mean that I knew the bodies under the water? I could recall no faces, but I remembered that sense of recognition. And that old woman… that part had been so vivid that it seemed as though I had actually been there. I tried to remember her words. They seemed like so much nonsense, yet they'd been spoken with the certainty of truth. I mouthed the words as if that would somehow reveal their meaning.

 _The blood of the mothers bathes the sisters and the brothers_. I never was good at riddles, and this had no meaning to me. _Only shade of night bears the fruit of sight._ That, at least, seemed to be clearly in reference to my Darksight, but I didn't know what to do with that information. _The unseeing becomes seen and the path lies in between._ A sudden shiver passed through me. I was more troubled now than I had been before my meditation. I needed to talk to my teacher, see if he could puzzle through this with me. Perhaps he had experience interpreting such things. I shook the last clinging bits of grogginess from me. Kicking aside the mug on the floor, I walked through his bedroom and into his refresher.

After using the facilities and washing my face, I dried myself and the spilled tea as best I could with a towel. I then went back into his main space, and with a baleful glance toward the locked office, I opened the case of freshly cleaned armor sitting on the table. I pulled out the red leather tunic, oiled and waxed to burnished brightness and chrome metal components polished until they shone like liquid silver, and put it on. I would not be underdressed again. I pulled my boots on and slipped the boot covers over them. Lastly, I pulled on my gloves. I left the rest of the armor, including my veil, in the case on the table, and then left his quarters to find him, distractedly kicking aside the trash by the door.

I was certain that he was on the ship, I could feel him. I'd managed to miss the entire deployment to Jakku. I was curious to find out how the mission went, and to ask him about my visions. For my sake, I hoped he'd been victorious. I followed my connection with him through the corridors and into the lift, running my hands through my hair nervously, still not used to how short it was. My instinct brought me to the bridge.

When I reached it, the guards on duty let me enter without question, even standing at attention as I passed through the door. Inside of the main room, officers walked the circuit on the upper floor surveying different displays while down below, teams of techs were busy working away at their stations. The space hummed with excitement.

One screen caught my attention after a cursory scan of the room. The terminal was displaying rotating footage of a collection of small buildings from the dispassionate eye of a surveillance droid. It was still night there, but I had no problem seeing. Every one of the buildings was alight in flame. No one seemed to care when I walked closer to the workstation. Black smoke churned upward from the inferno, lit from beneath by the flickering light. It was the aftermath of a raid. A pile of debris was visible off to one side of the display, burning like the rest of it, but something about it made me want to look closer. I recognized limbs and heads. I could now see that it was a pile of blackened bodies wreathed in flame. The phantom smell of charred flesh curled in the back of my nose and burned my throat, and I had to turn away quickly and close my eyes to collect myself.

When I opened my eyes, all around me continued in their tasks. Most of the emotional feedback was pleasantly focused, but I felt two signatures that were starkly agitated, and I moved toward them now. They were on the other side of a door that was off to one side between two empty workstations. I was about to use the controls to open it when someone came up next to me and stopped me with a slightly raised hand.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but the commanders are having a meeting right now," the young officer said. He had dark hair and a boyish face, and the tremor in his voice betrayed his nervousness.

"Kylo Ren ordered me to see him," I answered hesitantly, though I wasn't sure I wanted to interrupt whatever heated discussion they were doubtlessly having.

He shrugged and walked away. I thought I heard him mutter "it's your funeral," but I couldn't be sure. I didn't miss that all other personnel were staying conspicuously away from that door and headed toward it with some apprehension. I could hear some muffled voices. I opened the door, belatedly wondering if I should have knocked, and found myself in an empty room. The door closed behind me. The layout was much like General Hux's office on base, split into two rooms. The front room was dominated by a table with built-in hologenerators, and it was clear that it had been recently used. A small mouse droid whirred quietly as it cleaned the floor, and I could hear the voices through a door straight ahead, though I couldn't make out the words. I was momentarily frozen, unsure whether I should return later or wait. There was a low tone. Kylo Ren. I heard Hux's voice respond, but only caught the end.

"… you insufferable prick, what gives you the right-" Kylo Ren interrupted him and I leaned in close to catch the rest.

 **"… likes a prick,"** were the only words that I could discern, to my utter frustration. I'd never heard them argue like this before. Kylo Ren's emotional feedback felt distinctly coy and vindictive, but with an edge of dangerous spite. I was pressing my ear to the door now.

"How _dare_ you," Hux's voice now, almost shouting. Rage emanated from him. Rage and something else less distinct.

 **"Tell me more of your plan to regain the Supreme Leader's favor,"** Kylo Ren said.

I heard the sound of heavy furniture scraping, and what could have been a gasp, followed by a muffled curse. When the door opened, I almost fell into the room for how much I was pressed against the door.

Hux had apparently been in the process of grabbing his cap off of the desk itself appeared to be have been pushed askew slightly, and plastiprene film sheets were scattered on the floor. Kylo Ren stood close, his hood back exposing his black helm and one hand loosely held toward me and the door before it lowered to his side.

"Riala," Hux uttered as soon as he saw me, hurriedly raking his hair back into form, his face somehow becoming even redder and blotchier as the seconds ticked by. Kylo Ren cut in.

" **The General and I were just discussing the success of the mission,** " he said in a way that made it seem like there was a joke that I was not in on.

"It was hardly a success, _Ren_ ," Hux snapped, though his voice was a bit unsteady as he shot the other man a withering glare. He pulled his cap onto his head and adjusted its position. "You were supposed to either destroy the map or retrieve it. What we have is a prisoner."

" **He'll reveal what we seek soon enough. If your inquisitors fail, you have me.** "

"Oh _joy_ ," Hux bit sarcastically, his lips twisted into a sneer. Then his pale eyes flickered to me and his mouth tensed into a straight line. Fixing the cuffs of his uniform jacket and straightening his posture, he walked out of the room without another word.

" **Did you need something?** " Kylo Ren asked, his face on the closed door.

I tried to remember why I came in the first place but was having difficulty thinking about anything but what I'd just witnessed. My eyes moved to the desk, pushed back slightly. Had there been a physical altercation? I couldn't imagine Hux as the sort that would get into a fistfight, but I knew that somewhere under his lean form was a man who knew his way around martial combat.

"You uh… wanted me to find you," I stuttered, remembering his question. Kylo Ren turned to look at me. As his robes shifted, I caught the faint smell of smoke on them. I remembered the burning pile of bodies on the monitor in the bridge.

 **"Yes, of course. First I need to change. Come with me if you want. We can speak in my quarters.** " His tone was light, pleasant even. It was unsettling. He still wore his helmet, and while I'd gotten used to it and could sense his emotions well enough if he let me, at the moment I was experiencing some difficulty reading him. All that I could glean was that he was brimming with excess energy and that there was a small amount of joyful spite mixed with it. He strode out of the small office then without waiting for me. Hux was nowhere to be seen, but I could hardly look for him now. Kylo Ren moved quickly and soon I was breathing too hard to talk.

" **I like your armor. McHenry does good work,** " Kylo Ren remarked casually before almost losing me as he rounded a turn. " **She assisted me in the design of my own.** "

"You have armor?" I tried my best to keep the wheeze out of my voice. I hadn't been maintaining my regular exercise and after my greasy meal earlier, I was feeling a little out of shape. Phasma would've been disappointed.

" **I don't often need it anymore, as my powers have grown. If you're lucky, I may let you see it.** "

I couldn't even begin to imagine what he'd meant by that any more than I could imagine him wearing actual armor, but just then we entered a lift. I could see out of the corner of my eye that his fingers were tapping lightly at his side. His lightsaber was there, beneath his cloak. I remembered this as a sign of nervousness, but nothing about him seemed uncertain.

"The rest of it is in your quarters," I said, trying to remember what else I had left in there. I hadn't expected him to go straight to his rooms and I was now realizing that I'd left it a bit of a mess and wishing that I'd at least ordered a droid to tidy up before I left.

" **I suppose you've had it cleaned,** " he said, watching me. I could almost feel his eyes moving over me.

"Yes, of course."

" **Shame**."

I didn't know what to say in response to his apparent disappointment, but then the lift arrived at its destination and we exited. In no time, we were in front of his door. It opened and he stepped inside. There was a loud crunch as his boot came down on the trash I'd left by the door, but he didn't seem to notice or care. My embarrassment was forgotten as the next minute, he was on me, standing far too close and trapping me against the wall next to the door. The door shut and my heart raced. His head was so close to mine that the chin of his helmet was almost touching my face.

" **Tell me, Riala. The weapons I gave you… how did they perform?** " His voice was low and close as he looked down at me.

"You didn't exaggerate when you warned how easily they would cut flesh," I answered, trying to keep my breathing steady. My attentions were split neatly in two. Half of me was thinking back to the incident we referenced. That part of me felt trapped beneath the heavy body of the miner. When the tiny blade touched him, his belly had parted easily for it. I remembered how his body fluids poured onto me and soaked into my glove. Thinking back, I was horrified to remember that my hand, still gripping the shiv, had sunk partially in its abdominal cavity.

I lost myself for a moment, but the figure standing close to me brought me back. I could see his chest rise and fall subtly as he breathed, and I could smell the smoke more distinctly from this close. His robes were saturated in it, as if he'd bathed in it. Mingled with it was the heady scent of sweat and dirt, but there was also a metallic undercurrent of fresh blood. I swallowed the saliva that was collecting in my mouth. I wasn't sure if I was repulsed or attracted.

" **It's even easier with a lightsaber.** " He said this so low that it was almost a whisper. As if in response to his tone I felt a familiar surge of warmth between my legs. His words were grotesque, however. Disgusted with both him and myself, I shrugged myself out from between him and the wall and walked over to the sitting area. Jakku was still on the monitor. The shadowed side was retreating slowly to the rise of morning on the near face of the planet. Flashes of my Force vision came back to me and I wondered if I should mention it now.

But then, a feather light touch, like a finger, caressed my spine. Shivers expanded across my back and I twisted around. Kylo Ren was watching me from his position by the door, too far to have done it himself. I narrowed my eyes. I could tell where his thoughts were, and they were not on the fruits of my meditation. He walked past me to the bedroom where, facing away, he lowered his hood and began to remove his helmet, freeing his dark hair. He shook it out lightly from its pressed and matted state. He turned slowly until the pale profile of his face was visible. With parted lips and hooded eyes on the floor, he ran a gloved hand through his hair a few times, momentarily mesmerizing me with the motion as I imagined how it felt to do just that. He turned his upper body further so that our eyes met.

 _Come here,_ he said without speaking, invading my mind and pushing aside all other thoughts but him.

There were things I'd wanted to talk about. Important things. I knew I should have ignored the order, but I found myself walking toward him as if my legs were moving of their own accord. My heart hammered in my breast. I wanted to breathe him in and fill my lungs with him. He didn't wait for me to make the few steps that were between us; his power surrounded me, tugged on my middle and pulled me into him. He caught me and then pushed me against the wall in one smooth motion. For a beat, our eyes were locked. Then his clawed hands were in my hair, tugging against my scalp, forcing my mouth against his. He pressed against me so hard that I thought he would crush me against the wall. I wrapped my arm around his neck to pull him even closer and felt the hilt of his lightsaber dig into my hip almost painfully. I had a brief moment of fear that it would activate and pierce me, but such thoughts were soon overcome as the scent of him, and of his battle, filled my nostrils and all of my senses.

Using my hair as a grip, he jerked my head back, exposing my neck and eliciting an involuntary groan from me. Then his lips and teeth moved to that stretch of skin. Every point of contact seemed to strike the nerve center between my legs until it was throbbing. Bolts of pain punctuated the ripples of excited nerves throughout me as his teeth sank into my tender skin and released, quickly and without lingering too long in one place. I would have bruises, I knew, but at the moment, I wanted his teeth and lips all over me and I didn't care what evidence they left.

"What has gotten into you?" I gasped, digging my nails into his sides and writhing against the wall, wanting to touch him with every part of me. I felt drunk on him.

"You," he answered breathily before dragging his tongue up my throat and then plunging it back into my mouth. Ravenous, I sucked and pulled on it with my lips, wishing it were some other part of him. He was ridiculous, but still his answer had the desired effect, and a fluttering warmth filled my chest where only a few hours before there had been an empty ache. His hips moved, pressing his growing erection into me crudely. "Just imagining you naked," he breathed into my ear, "and covered in the blood of your enemies..."

I made a disgusted half laugh and pushed him off of me, feeling suddenly as though I couldn't breathe. I needed a moment to think. I slid around the doorframe and into the next room, but he followed me, continued standing far too close and forcing my back into the wall. I could see in his predatory expression that he was completely serious.

"You make it seem so righteous," I answered, exasperated and aroused and exasperated with my arousal. "There was nothing glorious about it." I looked down, focusing on his belt. But I made no move to walk away. He trailed his large hands down my arms and then gripped both of my wrists, pushing them against the wall in a way that made my blood rush to my face, crowding away my negative thoughts.

"You don't always get to choose your battles," he said. He wasn't holding me so firmly that I couldn't move, but I didn't resist when, still holding my wrists in his hands, he slid them up the wall until my arms were over my head. With his height and his long arms, he managed this far too easily. "But when you do," he closed his eyes and sucked in a long, deep breath through his nose as if reliving some past glory. "There is no equal to the triumph, the _rush_ of defeating those that seek to destroy you."

At the moment, he was destroying my composure. Something about envisioning him atop a pile of corpses in full armor made the small hairs on my neck rise in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant, even if rationally I knew the reality of battle was nothing like that. I didn't think this was the proper time for rational thought. I curved my back away from the wall to press my front against him more fully, uttering a small grunt of frustration with my own inconsistency. We could talk later. He shifted his hands so only one was needed to keep my arms out of the way. Now at the mercy of his other hand, he slid it back down to my face, brushing my lip with his thumb, down to my neck, and then the door to his quarters chimed.

He had a visitor, I realized with a jolt of horror. I'd been so wrapped up in what he would do with his hand next that I hadn't noticed the approach, but now I sensed it.

With a twitch of his head and a small surge of the Force, I heard the door unlock. He simultaneously wrapped his hand around a breast, and I uttered a noise of indignation when the door opened. The visitor entered.

"Now listen to me, you overgrown child-" General Hux was talking before he'd fully stepped into the room, but when his eyes fell on us, his face became paper white and the words died on a trembling lip. A strange mutual panic seemed to strike us both at once and he tensed as if ready to bolt. But Kylo Ren's hand moved from my breast and in a gesture, Hux stopped moving. I could see the faint tremble of muscle as he strained against the full-body Force hold that held him. His eyes, seemingly the only thing he had any control over looked back and forth between us wildly.

"General Hux, what a pleasant surprise," Kylo Ren said in a way that made it clear he wasn't surprised in the least.


	36. Dreams Made Flesh

Summary: Riala finds herself trapped between a hard place and a hard place.

Author's Note: I'm sorry. You're welcome. Maybe don't read this in a public place.

* * *

The door closed behind the immobilized man in uniform. His posture was slightly crooked, arms half up as if he'd been prepared to fend off a blow. He was tense and his entire body trembled as if he struggled against the hold with his every muscle. Slowly, Kylo Ren dropped the arm that reached for him; the other still held my wrists pinned against the wall. He turned back toward me. He captured my eyes with his and then he _smirked._ I felt the effects of it between my thighs, almost as if those mischievous lips had found me there, and my breath caught in my throat. I'd never seen him in such a mood; it frightened and excited me in a way that only he could manage.

"It seems that the General wasn't expecting you," Kylo Ren said to me. With a slight spasm of discomfort, I thought to myself that the sentiment was mutual. Here I'd thought that I would have time alone with this man, my Master and lover, and take advantage of this singular energy that he seemed to have gained from the deployment to Jakku. I tugged on my wrists and Kylo Ren released them without resistance. I considered this absurd situation, attempting to still my racing heart. It was invigorated by the activities which Hux's arrival had interrupted, and showed no sign of slowing. Likely this had to do with the adrenaline coursing through me in response to the man's gall. All three of us were on the ship for the first time together, and it seemed that things had spiraled out of control almost immediately.

Hux should have been furious, but the emotional read I was getting on him was more complicated than anger or even shock. And Kylo Ren… I couldn't even begin to puzzle over what I was sensing from him. Perhaps this was a show of strength to remind the livid redhead who truly had the power? If so, it was working on both of us. Kylo Ren seemed to be expending minimal effort or concentration in holding Hux hostage, and that thought terrified me. Of all the people that could have wielded such incredible power, it seemed that it had managed to find the most reckless, emotionally unstable person.

"Should I... leave?" I asked uncertainly, glancing over the large shoulder that partially blocked my view of the door. I didn't _want_ to leave, but I wasn't sure that I wanted to be present if things got violent; I was in the presence of the most powerful men in the First Order, after Supreme Leader Snoke, and it was at moments like this that I realized how little control I had.

"You should definitely stay," Kylo Ren said, bringing me back to him with a gloved hand on my chin. The command had been spoken softly.

I found myself nodding slowly as I tried to wrap my head why he'd asked. Then he leaned in and kissed me. It was almost sweet but for the hint of teeth on my lower lip, as if he were physically incapable of making such a gentle gesture without including some reminder that pain was always lurking. His attentions made it difficult to analyze just why my pulse raced and adrenaline had begun to seep into my blood. He dragged his lips over my cheek and to my ear as if unable or unwilling to break contact.

"Take off your armor." His whisper was a warm, delicate caress, just for me to hear. He could have communicated silently, as he had before, but the sensation of his breath on the fine, nearly invisible hairs on the rim of my ear made my knees weak. I was obliged to comply before I remembered Hux. I peered at him around the black cloud of Kylo Ren's hair. The scent of it made me feel drunk, and it seemed as though I were observing the world through a haze. Was this how it felt when I transmitted my desire to others? Kylo Ren did not have the ability to do so deliberately, but by his very nature the effect was probably the same.

"This is cruel," I answered, sensing Hux's distress as it cut through my distraction. His face was taut with tension, both physical and mental.

"He doesn't deserve your compassion." Kylo Ren pulled away a little bit when he said this, and I was momentarily taken aback by his seriousness. With a brief glance over his shoulder, he spoke the next part loud enough for Hux to hear.

"I hear he likes to watch. So… let's give him something to watch," he said, sounding as smug, as if I'd already agreed. Immediately, my thoughts went to the circumstances whereupon myself and the General, then Lieutenant General, had first met. I recalled my anger and my disgust and in the present, I felt my concern for him slip away a little bit. I looked back to Hux and I bestowed upon him a slow, cruel smile. I felt a small spike of fear from him in response. He would find no ally in me, not now.

As I began to untie the laces at the side of my tight leather tunic, Kylo Ren leaned in and started planting small kisses and brief nips on my cheek and neck, making the hairs on my neck and arms rise. When he moved lower, my body suit's collar got in the way, so he simply reached up and unfastened it from the top, following each additional centimeter of exposed skin with tiny gifts of his lips and teeth. I couldn't disrobe quickly enough, and, when he sensed me struggling slightly with the tunic, he aided me in lifting it over my head by the skirts. I was already wetter than I'd ever been before and clenching with premature ache. We were still, by all scales, still fully clothed. I was ready to see more of him now, and I didn't conceal those thoughts or the emotion behind them.

As if responding to those unspoken desires, he stepped back and, looking down demurely, he began to remove the outer components of his clothing. As I quickly removed my boots, I could see that Hux looked on, his eyes wide and fixed. A flush had begun to creep up his cheeks and the material of his breeches was pulled taut over a burgeoning erection. He really _did_ enjoy watching, I thought, wondering why I hadn't thought to take advantage of this fact in my various torments of him.

Kylo Ren tossed aside his outer robes and now watched me as he unfastened his tunic, a subtle, wry curve to the shape of his mouth. When he pulled it over his head, I brushed my fingers over the sparse. dark hair of his stomach and chest, drinking the feel of his round muscles with my fingertips. His torso was bared to the high waist of his snug pants. Framed by his thick locks, his boyish face, even with its charmingly disproportionate nose and ears, appeared almost angelic, even though it was perched atop a man's body. His long, strong arms hung at his side, and his wide lips were parted as he watched me study him.

I felt a twitch in the corner of my mouth. He immediately enveloped it with his. I turned my face up into him, breathing in deeply until my lungs were at capacity with the smell of sweat and fire _._ My back bumped into the wall and he moved harder into me, pressing his firm, broad chest against mine. I did everything to ensure that the contact between our hungry mouths didn't sever, at least until I needed to breathe. I plunged my hands into his hair, and with particular satisfaction, I filled my grip with his locks and yanked back with enough force that his lips broke from mine. He winced and made a small involuntary noise before grinding me into the wall in retaliation. He ripped his head out of my hands and closed his lips on my neck, sucking and biting so hard that it hurt. The bolt of pain flared brightly and then sank deep. I groaned gutturally, almost out of my mind with want. Bleary eyes saw Hux watching us.

Kylo Ren opened my body suit to the waist and then forcefully tugged it down past my shoulders, momentarily trapping my arms at my side. Ripping off his gloves, he dipped a hand into the gap and underneath the fabric and almost accidentally found my clit; I was so wet that there was no friction when his finger slipped between my labia. I jerked and made a small noise as the touch's effects raced through my body.

Impatiently, I wriggled my arms free of their sleeves and ripped off my gloves so that I could touch his hot skin with my bare hands. His finger started to swirl and flick, generating ripples of heat and just as I gripped his back, a spasm caused my nails to bite into him. He groaned again and his lips crashed against mine and this kiss was all hungry tongues and biting.

I hooked my fingers into the waist of his pants, scraping his skin with my nails, and began to tug at them. He groaned into my mouth and, with alarming strength, removed his hand from my cunt and picked me up by the waist, swung me around and deposited me on my back on the floor atop his bunched robes. Swiftly, he tugged my body suit down over my hips and, with one final flourish, past my feet and off of me completely. Large hands encompassed both of my breasts and squeezed, and my breath caught in my throat. Open-mouthed, he tasted the skin of my belly with his tongue and roved upward where, before I could remember to breathe, he closed his lips around one of my nipples while he pinched and caressed the other with his hand. My thighs squeezed together and I squirmed. When my eyes, at turns clamped shut and rolling back in my head, happened to look down at him. He was not looking at me. His ruthless gaze was fixed on General Hux who, as I just remembered, bore mute witness to the proceedings. Kylo Ren had positioned us deliberately so that we were in full view of his captive officer.

I couldn't deny that being aware of Hux's growing arousal and inability to do anything about it only made every sensation sharper. Just then, Kylo Ren released his mouth from my breast and replaced it with his other hand. Maintaining a steady kneading rhythm, punctuated by the occasional plucking or pinch upon my tender nipples, his mouth started moving lower, and my heart leapt into my throat when I realized where he was going. I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling as my every nerve followed the progress of his torturous trail; the tickle of his hair and the soft, wet warmth of his mouth was at odds with the occasional toothy nibble and kept me from slipping too far into bliss. His mouth reached just underneath my navel and my abdominal muscles tightened. In a mindless effort to seek more contact, my spine moved as though a wave were passing upward through it, first arching toward his mouth, and then toward the hands bestowing their sweet torments upon my breasts. I wanted him on top of me, inside of me.

When he reached the mound and hair which sprouted above my groin, he luxuriated in it, nuzzling his face into it as though he savored the feel of me against his cheek. My thighs were still clutched together at that point in a failed attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache there, but he was not deterred. He let go of my breasts, to my momentary dissatisfaction, palmed my every contour on their way down, and then gently pried my thighs apart.

There, he settled fully and comfortably on the floor and paused. I looked down, met his eyes, forgot to breathe. His eyes moved languidly toward the door and, following them, I found myself looking at a still-captive General Hux. I kept forgetting he was there. If it weren't for the Force energy exerting itself across the man's body, I wasn't sure he would still be standing. His face was flushed dark red, his eyes wide, his mouth open with lower lip quivering. Unable to change his position in any way, the prominence of the hard cock straining at his clothing was almost profane. From my sampling of his mental state, all other emotion was long gone replaced by an all-consuming desperation. The face between my legs nuzzled the interior of my thigh, tickling my sensitive skin with his hair, grabbing my attention.

"Should I let him go?" He asked coyly, loud enough for the other man to hear. My thighs trembled and I knew that I was practically dripping with visceral anticipation. I swallowed and licked my lips. I looked at Hux who, upon hearing the question, had experienced such a powerful upwelling of wordless desire that I almost couldn't tell whether it had come from myself or him.

"Maybe," I said contemplatively while moving my thigh so that it rubbed against Kylo Ren's hair. He answered by turning just enough that he could lick and kiss the skin there. I bit my lip. "But only if he behaves himself."

Just then, Hux collapsed, as I had speculated he might, and landed with his hands and knees on the floor. His hat landed in front of him, though his hair, impeccably smoothed back, was only slightly jarred from its orderly style.

"Behave," Kylo Ren said to him, as though he were a child or a domesticated animal. I felt Hux's flash of anger, and he looked at me as if he expected for me to say something. But at that moment, in a transparently strategic move, Kylo Ren plunged his long tongue between my labia and licked me in a fat, hard line from my cunt to my clit and I could only gasp sharply for the shock of sudden sensation that struck me like lightning. Too hard, too fast, too soon, I thought as my thighs involuntarily tried squeezing together to reflexively protect my sensitive parts.

He seemed to mistake this action for encouragement and did it a second time. Immediately, I put a hand on the top of his head and pushed a little, trying shakily to take a breath and figure out how to word what I wanted from him, and how I was going to communicate this in front of another person. Sometimes, with the age difference, I forgot how inexperienced Kylo Ren was, or at the very least, how rusty he was. Usually this would have been a conversation to be had in private, but as soon as he'd made the choice to hold Hux hostage, he'd lost that chance. Now I had to figure out the best way to tell my Master how to lick my cunt properly in front of his professional rival.

"You're doing it wrong," General Hux said quietly from the door, speaking for the first time since he'd entered. He was sitting back on the balls of his feet in a kneeling position and held the hat on his lap in a white-knuckled grip. He was staring at us and I sensed that his terse expression was as much from irritation as from inner tension.

"It isn't so easy to offer commentary when you're being strangled," Kylo Ren said in a low, dangerous tone. I didn't appreciate having his aggression so close to such a vulnerable place, and I didn't want to test whether or not he would actually be able to Force choke Hux while using his mouth on me. I suspected it wouldn't do much to improve his technique, so I ran my fingers through his hair to regain control over the situation. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, they were on me. Without breaking our locked eyes, I sat up and leaned forward. He had a moment of doubt, I saw, which passed over his features, but I quelled it with a deep kiss. Our tongues swirled together and I felt a sudden thirst that urged me to drink from the seemingly bottomless energy that I felt quivering just beneath his skin. I'd felt it before, with Seven, and with Hux. I resisted the troubling implication of that desire and broke the kiss, appreciating how fully he seemed to have forgotten his hurt pride.

"Master," I said, my voice low and throaty. He seemed to like this and I saw him shift slightly to accommodate his erection, watching my mouth. "I think that your tongue might be better utilized in another position."

I didn't wait for him to answer explicitly, but he offered no resistance when I gently pushed back on his shoulder, stealing more tastes of his mouth as he turned onto his back. When I arched over him, he took my hanging breasts in his hands and lavished them with attention, and I made an appreciative sound as I slid my thigh over his abdomen. In the process, I nudged the bulge in his pants with my ass and enjoyed the small shudder that passed through him at the contact. And then I reluctantly moved forward, breaking the contact between his mouth and my hardened nipples. With pleasure, his large hands gripped the back of my buttocks and pushed my groin toward his mouth.

In this position, I could control the pace and the pressure. When I peered down at him, all that was visible over my mons pubis was his large nose, his sultry dark eyes, and his halo of ebony waves. He moved his tongue, just the rounded, pointed tip of it, tentatively along the folds of my inner labia, watching my eyes mutely but intensely from between my thighs and a sigh escaped me unbidden. Warmth spread in ripples from me when he brushed my clit; I noted that he was being more careful now, more gently and steadily building up the stimulation until I ached for want of more. He was a quick study. I lowered myself, resting just a little more of me weight on him, leaning my body forward so that my hair hung over our faces like a curtain. I doubted that he could breathe, but he allayed those doubts by pushing my hips down further, trapping my cunt against his hot mouth, holding it captive to his appetites. It felt as though he were somehow able to breathe me instead of air, and that he was doing so with great enjoyment, the way his lips and delicate tongue moved against me.

The pressure was building at the base of my spine, and my hips had begun to rock of their own accord, finding a subtle rhythm, and his hands, clawed, squeezed me in time with my movements, grinding me harder against him. I was now sure that he couldn't breathe, but neither of us seemed to care. I moved forward and immediately he plunged his long tongue upward into me, making it undulate with dexterous alternating flexion and relaxing of the muscle. My cunt constricted against him, and he began to move it inside of me. My moan rode upon a sigh and I closed my eyes, encouraging the ball of ecstasy to grow. I heard a small noise and I must have looked with such heated ferocity toward the distracting sound that I saw the color in Hux's face retreat slightly. He had made a small groan and dropped his hat, and his hand was rested atop his bulging groin, moving subtly. He looked pained. Kylo Ren moved his face slightly to take a breath, and the brush of cool air against my throbbing clit generated a shudder.

"Sir, please," Hux said plaintively, clearly no longer in conflict with his pride. He was talking to me, his back bent forward slightly. He lifted the hand that wasn't cupping his groin toward me, as if to reach for me. "Please let me please you."

I was aroused and irritated. Somehow especially by the number of times he'd said the word "please," and the fact that he was sneakily trying to alleviate his discomfort.

"General, I didn't give you permission to touch your cock," I said, my voice sounding hard even to my own ears. His hand snapped to his thigh so quickly that I wondered if he'd even noticed he was doing it.

"Sir, please," he said again. With a grunt of irritation, I raised myself off of Kylo Ren's face, irrationally angry. He let go of my hips and wiped his mouth before turning to look at Hux. Now Hux was the subject of both of our ire. He seemed to shrink, but still he opened his mouth to say something else, and I cut him off with a whip of wrath and he flinched. Obviously my pleasure would have to wait until I asserted control. I shifted so that I knelt behind Kylo Ren's face. He had one arm tucked behind his head, appearing to enjoy the show, waiting to see what I would do. He'd never seen the General and my nonprofessional relationship firsthand before.

"Take off your clothes General," I said, mustering as much authority as I could while being the only one at present to be completely unclothed. His face turned red again. With an uncertain glance toward Kylo Ren who watched pitilessly, he began to obey. Too slowly. I struck him with another bolt of my anger, relishing in the satisfaction I felt to see him cry out and flinch like he'd been physically slapped. He moved much more quickly now, with such haste that he didn't show his uniform the same consideration he usually did, laying it on the floor without folding it first. There was a brief hesitation as he reached for the waist of his pants, but a quick look toward me was all the reminder he needed and he slid those down, kicking off his boots and socks. He was down to his black shortbriefs now and his thumb moved to hook the waistband.

"Not those," Kylo Ren said, watching Hux like a hungry predator. "And put that cap back on," he added, enjoying the act of ordering the other man around. Hux looked to me, an unformed protest in his face. I shrugged and nodded in agreement. It was a creative request, and I would allow it, though I didn't want Kylo Ren to take too many liberties. General Hux was submissive to me, and we had arrived at our special relationship over time, and upon a foundation of mutual trust.

Mutely, Hux picked his cap off the floor and, smoothing his hair back, pulled it on. Clearly, wearing the symbol of his rank in such a context was humiliating, and that only made his erection strain harder against his undergarment.

"Come here, Hux," I said, almost sweetly. On his knees, he began to crawl. "Lower," I said. Uncertainly, Hux lowered himself, watching me. I wasn't satisfied until his belly touched the floor. I knew that it was uncomfortable on his groin, but he obeyed without question and began crawling awkwardly toward us, trying not to lose his cap.

"Since you insist on interrupting my pleasure, perhaps you can use that insolent mouth in a more useful way," I said, looking down at him as though he were a worm. Though he couldn't see my face, he heard it in my voice.

"Yes, Sir, please," he said breathily. I heard Kylo Ren laugh humorlessly. He'd moved so that he rested on his side, supporting his head with his hand. Lazily, I rested a hand on his upper arm and stroked it. Next to Kylo Ren and without his uniform, Hux looked so much thinner, his shoulders much narrower.

"I've seen how well you use your mouth. So show the Commander-Inquisitor. Suck his cock," I ordered. Kylo Ren's face turned toward me suddenly, clear surprise on his face, but when he met my cruel stare, I saw the hint of a smile in the corners of his eyes. General Hux froze and didn't seem to breathe for a long moment, and it seemed as though he'd been put into another Force hold. I felt the conflict inside of him, though, and I allowed him a generous moment to think before I said, harshly, " _now_."

Hux swallowed so audibly that I could hear it, but then, to my utter delight, he started to move forward. My heart pounded in my throat and my mind raced. Surely he wouldn't. Surely he would stop, wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it, I thought. There was no way I was about to get what I'd been wanting. This was inconceivable, impossible, but still, Hux's slender hands reached for the crotch of Kylo Ren's pants and mechanically started to unbutton them. His pale fingers pulled apart the seam and when he reached in, Kylo Ren sighed and closed his eyes. Of course, Kylo Ren didn't wear undergarments, so there was nothing in the way when Hux pulled out his thick cock, tugging the front of his pants down further for greater access.

For a moment, we were all suspended. Both I and Kylo Ren watched the profile of Hux's face poised with the shaft in hand. I could see that part of him still wanted to leave. But the other part, currently far greater, wanted to please me and, perhaps even wanted this. I licked my lips, as if it were my lips slightly parted, centimeters from the head of Kylo Ren's cock, and I felt myself salivate slightly. Then, closing his eyes, Hux pushed his body forward and took the tip of it between his lips, then opened his jaws wider and took the entirety of it. The position was awkward, and Kylo Ren rolled onto his back resting a hand on the back of Hux's head to draw him along, but as soon as Hux was settled between his legs, he began to suck in earnest. My pulse was in my ears as I watched, mesmerized, by the sight of General Hux's uniform cap bobbing up and down as he lavished his oral ministrations upon Kylo Ren with apparent expertise. Kylo Ren let go of Hux's head and a large hand rested on my thigh, breaking my trance.

When I looked at his face, Kylo Ren's eyes shone brightly, and a faint flush had risen in his cheeks. He pulled on my thigh gently. I knew what he was asking without him speaking it, and I was more than happy to comply. I straddled his face, this time so that I faced Hux. Kylo Ren pulled me down onto his mouth firmly with enthusiasm, and as soon as I felt his tongue begin to move again, and felt the hot breath from his nose on the cleft of my ass, I knew I'd made the right choice to stay.

Now I could watch the General fulfill my orders and bask in this perfect moment. With some dark humor, I noticed that the last time I'd felt this way, it had not been sexual in nature; it had been a pure moment of joy, myself on the verge of kissing General Rhidan, my future secured with a good man, or so I'd thought. It was a moment that Hux had shattered brutally with an orchestrated assassination. Now, however, the joy of having Kylo Ren's tongue deep in my cunt while I watched the same red-haired officer gulp at his rival's cock, hungry to prove his obedience, that former moment paled in comparison. I planted my hand on Hux's cap and pushed him down hard so that he gagged. Simultaneously, I felt and heard Kylo Ren groan between my legs, the reverberations of his deep voice seem to pierce me, and then his tongue followed suit, fucking me with delicious abandon, his long fingers curling and digging into my thighs.

"That's right," I murmured sweetly to Hux, watching him struggle for a second. "Show me what a good slut you are." I let him go and he pulled his head up, the hard cock slipping out of his mouth as he gasped for air, spittle on his lower lip. As soon as Hux had regained his breath, he continued, his eyes on me as his head moved up and down, Kylo Ren's cock slipping in and out of view between his perfect pink lips. It seemed that he wanted to prove his ability, for, without breaking eye contact, he opened his jaw as wide as he could and engulfed the entire length of the shaft, burying his nose in the mound of dark pubic hair. I saw his throat working around its girth, and the sight was enough to make me nearly forget myself; Kylo Ren reacted with appropriate appreciation, as his own actions became proportionately more enthusiastic. I started grinding my hips again in time with Hux's motions, rolling them forward when Hux's mouth encompassed the cock, then up and backwards when Hux released to catch his breath, in repeated crests. It was as though his mouth on Kylo Ren were directly touching my body, as though Kylo Ren were a mere conduit for the pleasure Hux was giving me. I felt the tingling start in the arches of my feet around the same time that I felt the aching pressure start to compound in my belly and lower back. I leaned forward slightly, mindlessly seeking even more contact, hearing myself moan with each breath. Hux was watching me as well as he could, and when I caught glimpses of Kylo Ren's cock, the head was dark red and glistening. Too soon, I thought. This can't be over so soon.

There was a moan inside of me, and suddenly one of the hands gripping my thigh released it, revealing the marks where Kylo Ren's nails had been digging into my skin, and roughly pushed back on General Hux's head. The cock popped out of his mouth lewdly, and there was clearly some Force behind the gesture as well, for the officer fell back harder than he should have, with a stunned expression on his face.

Kylo Ren lifted himself up and curved forward, using his arms to move my hips downward and, maneuvering deftly, I found myself on the floor on my hands and knees. From behind me, he lifted me up with two hands on my hips and I felt his erection bump my cunt. A hand guided it to the entrance. Looking back over my shoulder, Kylo Ren's torso towered over me, his hair mussed and wild, the flush dark in his face. His eyes were blazing as he reached toward Hux. Almost immediately, I saw Hux's back arch, his hands twisting behind him as if pulled by invisible rope. It was frightening how jerky the motions were like those of a marionette, and I realized that Kylo Ren was using the Force to restrain him. Hux's cap fell off, and his pale eyes bulged with panic, his neck straining as he was choked. I felt a jolt of fear and almost moved to say something in protest, but just then, a hand wound through my hair and wrenched it back, silencing the words before they'd even formed. His hips shoved forward into me and his turgid cock penetrated me. I cried out in shock and pleasure from the sudden invasion, my eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

Without releasing my hair, Kylo Ren began to pull out and plunge in, jarring my body with each thrust, far deeper than I'd ever felt him. My vision was hazy with utter mind-boggling pleasure and the sweet pain in my scalp and the wall inside of me that was being ruthlessly battered by the head of his cock. When I looked forward to Hux, it was almost an afterthought. He was on his knees, his hands behind his back at an awkward angle, his back stiff and neck straight. He was apparently able to breathe now, but it seemed that Kylo Ren hadn't released his hold entirely on the man's airflow, because his narrow chest rose and fell with the desperation of a man who wasn't sure of his next breath. I felt the other hand drop and grip the swell of my hips painfully, holding me in place so that he might be able to slam into me with more strength. With each thrust, I grunted, unable to maintain any kind of composure. Though he didn't hold me with the Force, I felt myself as unable to move as Hux was.

"You like seeing me fuck her?" Kylo Ren grunted, loosening his grip on my hair slightly without letting go. I looked at Hux down my nose, sucking in great gasping breaths as he was, but for different reasons. "How does it feel, Hux?"

The other man didn't answer, but his eyes were on me, an expression of mingled horror and consuming desire on his fair features. The bulge in his underthings belied his apparent despair. A swell of fire ripped through me then and I cried out as I crashed forcefully and crazily headlong into my orgasm, taken utterly by surprise and completely out of control as I shuddered around the organ inside of me. I know some of the sensations leaked out, unintentionally projected, but I couldn't stop it as it spread to the two men. My hair was let go and clawed fingers raked down my back as Kylo Ren thrust into me sharply and ejaculated. He curled forward over my back, holding himself as far into me as he could while I felt the semen pulse out of him, filling me with liquid warmth.

Hux was breathing in ragged breaths, a tiny dark spot visible over his bulge where his sorely erect penis still strained against the fabric. Slowly, Kylo Ren pulled out, a trail of wetness dripping after him onto my upper thigh. A warm hand stroked my back where the skin was tender, welts where his nails had been. When I glanced over my shoulder to look at him, he was beside himself, his eyes alight with wicked fire. I lowered my ass to my heels and Kylo Ren got to his feet shakily, stumbling into the bedroom and then the refresher. While he was gone, I met Hux's eyes. Despite the dose of pleasure which I'd accidentally given him, he hadn't yet come. He deserved a reward for that. I still throbbed between my legs, the ache of desire not yet abated, and I had a cruel idea.

"My sweet General," I cooed, noting with some amount of disquiet that Kylo Ren's hold was still on the other man, even though he wasn't present. Again, I was confronted with the display of the sheer range of his power and the appreciation for the value of being his ally. "You've been so good, Hux. I want to reward you."

General Hux's expression softened a little and hope crept into his features.

"Use that lovely mouth of yours and clean me." I watched the confusion of the order become tainted by the realization of my meaning. There was a little discomfort there as well, for the nature of the order; with his arms bound, I clearly meant for him to do so with his mouth. And truly, licking up the post-coital emissions of another man was delightfully depraved; when I said it, I prepared myself for the possibility that I would push him too far. If he didn't want to do it, I wouldn't make him against his will. My hold over him was far stronger than I'd realized. With dogged determination, he regained his balance and unfolded into a standing position with the grace of a man with some physical ability. I watched him as he carefully walked around behind me and lowered himself and kneeled behind my ass like a supplicant humbling himself before a queen.

When Kylo Ren re-entered the room, apparently having finally found some clean towels, it was to the sight of General Hux bent at the waist behind me, his wrists locked behind his back as his little pink tongue licked the ejaculate off of my thighs in small, thorough strokes. He was making his way up toward my dripping cunt and I was biting my lip in delicious anticipation. Carefully, so as not to overstimulate the nerves there, he lapped and swallowed obediently, sneaking in a few strokes over my clit and labia in the guise of thoroughness. I felt the blood rush back there with such speed that it throbbed with my pulse. I locked eyes with Kylo Ren unblinkingly, gloating silently. His cock, which still hung limply outside of his pants, stirred. Hux's little pink tongue swept from the folds of my labia, then, up to the tight bud of my anus, surprising me for how good it felt and I let a small noise out. Sensing my enjoyment, I felt him push his face in closer, where he swirled his tongue around the sensitive place, then swept it back down to my cunt. He was determined to show me how much better he was at pleasing me, it seemed, and he was admittedly succeeding.

I wondered how far I could push him. I moved away from the General, feeling that he'd proven his loyalty well enough. I caressed his face with my hand and slowly got to my feet and stretched, pretending not to notice how both men watched me.

Coolly, I walked to the bedroom door, casting Hux a lingering look and drawing Kylo Ren into the room with me with a light hand on his bare arm.

"Do you happen to have some elastex condoms, perhaps some lubricant?" I asked, just loudly enough for the General to hear. Kylo Ren's brows rose, and I felt him questioning me with his Force aura. Silently, I communicated with him by recalling the sight of the General's lithe form beneath me as I reamed him with the harnessed phallus. I remembered thinking how attractive he looked as he took me into him, wished that I could have had the privilege to feel him. A small wash of heat passed through Kylo Ren and he closed his eyes. There was no doubt that he'd seen it, overcome by the image for the second time. Watching him loftily, I moved to his bed, and then sat upon it, propping myself up on his pillows so that I was more comfortable.

"Come here, General," I called, stretching languorously upon the coverlet. Kylo Ren stood back, still holding the towels, and we both watched as Hux's slender form entered. He'd put his cap back on, I was pleased to note. I let my thighs fall open and patted the bed. "Up here, my pet. This is much more comfortable than the floor. You've been so good, so obedient."

Hux was almost glowing. He cast a brief, suspicious glance to Kylo Ren, who'd rendered his face unreadable, before climbing onto the bed. I could sense some pride, some ego in him. He seemed to think that I preferred his tongue to Kylo Ren's, and in a way he was right. He seemed to know exactly how to touch me with it to make my nerve endings sing, of course he'd had far more practice. Settling comfortably between my legs, his ass in the air, he watched my face as he darted his tongue out and in delicate, graceful swipes, managed to return me to a state of hungry, aching arousal in a short amount of time. Behind him, in the shadows, Kylo Ren held out a hand to the side. I sensed the swell of Force energy and there was a small noise, a drawer opening, and out of the bathroom, a small tube and a package flew into his hand. The noise was enough to gather Hux's attentions, so at that moment, I pushed his head down onto my cunt hard to distract him. He groaned into me and started licking with greater fervor. I saw his cock growing again, protruding below him.

Quietly, Kylo Ren set the towels on the bed. He stepped up to it, his eyes firmly on the curve of Hux's pale buttocks, held up so invitingly toward him. We exchanged a meaningful look, a cruel glint in his eyes. He opened the tube and now Hux started again, began to turn to see what the other man was doing. I fed him a small thread of pleasure and he seemed to forget that anyone else was there as his eyes fluttered shut and his back arched.

"You are mine, yes, General?" I asked him sweetly, sharing just enough pleasure to distract him, loving how handsome he looked bowed before me.

"Yes, Sir," he sighed. Kylo Ren's eyes were on me as he squeezed some of the lubricant onto his hand. He opened a small packet, pulled out a condom.

"You will do anything I ask, yes?" I asked, punctuating this with a tiny barb mixed in with the pleasure. Hux grunted, bucked slightly, his pelvis bucking forward as if his cock sought somewhere to bury itself.

"Yes, Sir," he replied, licking his lips, his heavily lidded eyes opening on me, regarding me with the most adoring gaze. I felt only slightly guilty.

"And if you find that you are unable to fulfil one of my orders, you will use the word we discussed, yes?" I bit my lip, watching just past Hux's pale, lightly freckled back as Kylo Ren unrolled the condom over his hard cock.

"Yes, Sir, though I can think of nothing that would make me want to disobey you." The answer was sweet, if ill-informed.

"We'll see." I granted him a small, benevolent smile before my eyes flickered to Kylo Ren's face. "Whatever happens, keep your cap on."

A look of confusion passed over his noble features just before Kylo Ren leaned forward and tugged the waist band of Hux's undergarments down, exposing the curve of his white buttocks. Before the General could react, Kylo Ren squeezed a blob of clear, viscous lubricant over the cleft of his ass. Startled, Hux gave a start, turning to look over his shoulder where he saw the ominous figure of Kylo Ren tossing aside the tube of lubricant. It landed softly atop the folded towels. Hux's head whipped around toward me again, questioning, his mouth poised as if to speak. I waited to hear the safety word. Hux's mouth snapped shut and his brows knitted, his eyes closed as he likely considered his position. He was a proud man, I thought with some small amount of admiration. And I knew that somewhere deep inside of him, he wanted this. Kylo Ren reached forward and gently began to stroke the cleft of Hux's ass almost lovingly. Hux shuddered and bowed his head. His cap slid forward slightly.

"Careful, General," I warned. After a moment of pause, Hux looked up again, fixing me with an expression of overwhelming anguish. My order now made sense. I looked down at him with exaggerated pity. As Kylo Ren stroked him, Hux adjusted his cap, then reached forward and resumed tonguing me between my legs, determined to follow my orders. I couldn't see precisely what Kylo Ren was doing, but I could guess. Hux shivered every time one of the other man's fingers passed over the tight orifice between his buttocks, and it seemed to pass through him into me. I slid forward, stroked Hux's hair, my breath catching my in throat as the pressure built, and my heart thudded loudly in my ears. And then, an almost inaudible grunt. Kylo Ren had inserted a finger into the General, a devilish shine to his dark eyes in the dimly lit room. Hux was overcome for a moment; I knew how good it felt and I bit my lip, images of the two men together already playing before my eyes.

His tongue flicked my clit and swirled around it, and a surge of heat washed over me. My eyes rolled back and I tilted my hips up toward that mouth. _Harder_ I thought to myself, thinking both of Hux's tongue and of the long finger that I could feel deep inside of him, stroking that pleasure organ. Simultaneously, Kylo Ren's other hand hooked around Hux's hips, gripped him close. On his face was the look of a predator that was sure of its next meal, and it was a little unsettling in its focus.

Blood flow was collecting heavily in my labia, and my cunt ached and gripped as Hux dutifully continued to pleasure me. Kylo Ren removed his finger, gathered some more lubricant into his palm and began to coat the sheathed cock, stroking the shaft. I felt my breath stutter as another ripple passed through me. I felt my lower muscles clench in anticipation. Hux was seemingly lost in the sensations I was granting him, but he froze when Kylo Ren, gripping his cock in hand, gently pressed against Hux's tight hole.

"Relax, General. You're so fucking tense," Kylo Ren mused, almost tauntingly. He was right. I could feel it and see it in his body that everything was rigid. He was afraid that this was going to hurt. Gently, I stroked Hux's cheek. He opened his mouth, and I was sure that he was going to stop this.

"If you're going to do it, fucking do it," Hux sad through clamped teeth. "Just be sure you fuck me properly, Ren." I was a little stunned at his boldness, but Kylo Ren's demeanor was fierce. Just then, Hux's body lurched and his arms wrested behind him sharply and he cried out, his cheek on the bed between my open thighs. His cock looked painfully swollen now, and the red tip was glistening slightly.

His hands free, Kylo Ren gripped the other man's hips, held him still, and then guided his cock forward. Hux cried out at the same time I did; I was suddenly, forcefully made aware of the sensation of pushing a turgid organ into an impossibly tight, lube-slicked hole, of having that hole stretched painfully to accommodate the invasion, and of my hand, which had begun to thrum almost unconsciously against my clitoris. All three of us groaned at once as this awareness spread from me, and I felt Hux's anus relax slightly as Kylo Ren's thick cock pushed further in, gripped tightly by the wet heat of the hole it was penetrating. My body jerked and tensed as my mind tried to process this confusing, muddled sensory feedback of three bodies at once. I was going to come, I thought with some vague awareness that I had not stopped touching myself, unconsciously desperate to relieve this incredible hungry ache.

Kylo Ren buried his cock up to the base, filling the slighter man so deeply and fully that it seemed impossible. He stopped for a moment, his eyes rolled back as he tried to get a grip on what he was feeling. I knew he felt his cock in Hux as surely as he felt it in himself. Slowly, he drew back out, and all three of us breathed and moaned at the same time, like a wave passing through our bodies. Without being told, Hux stretched his neck then, and began to suckle at my groin. Gratefully, I gripped his head, not noticing when the hat fell onto the bed, and ground his face between my legs as Kylo Ren began to fuck him, slowly at first, and then harder. Soon, he maintained a steady pace, jarring Hux's tongue into me hard. I knew they felt his tongue as well as they felt each other. I almost couldn't handle it; the summation of three separate nervous systems was more than one brain could handle, but it seemed like the gates were open and I couldn't stop it.

Hungrily, almost with a desperate zeal, Hux continued to lap at me, plunging his small tongue into my throbbing cunt and laving me up to my clit, swirling it under my clitoral hood as Kylo Ren's cock continually filled him and pulled back before ramming into him again. I withdrew my senses, trying to get a hold of myself and what I was feeling before I lost it entirely, and that is when I came.

My orgasm was hard and blinding and I muffled Hux's cries deep between my legs as I double fisted his red hair and ground his face into me while the flood of heat passed over me. Almost reflexively, I scooted back, shaking, away from Hux's mouth, suddenly oversensitive as the aftershocks flexed and released in my pelvic floor muscles, just those sensations enough to elicit another groan from me. They were not finished yet, I realized. It seemed as though both of them had lost their minds. Kylo Ren was gripping Hux so hard and thrusting his muscled hips into him with such force that the entire bed shook with each impact, and Hux's noises became one long, continuous moan with a regular stutter when the man behind him rammed him.

I drank in the sight of them thirstily. This was what I'd wanted, ever since I'd gleaned from Hux that the two of them had once been involved. Watching these two beautiful men, one large and tall and muscular with his thick dark hair in a chaotic mess atop his head, the other pale and slight and wiry, his fair red hair completely out of order, was like watching night crash into day. Kylo Ren's long body curved and flowed, at once fluid and savage as he fucked the other man, whose arms were held helplessly behind him. It was beauty, it was art. If I could have captured the image in my mind, I would have, and I cast it to memory as well as I could. When Hux acted close to coming, Kylo Ren raised an arm and smacked him hard on one cheek, shocking him into averting the climax, but making him clench, and then Kylo Ren snarled as he came, shuddering as he buried himself deep into Hux. I was touching myself again.

Almost too quickly, Kylo Ren pulled his cock out. The sheath was full of his come, and the lubricant had become foamy in its agitation. He fell back slightly, caught himself by throwing a hand out and gripping the coverlet. Hux collapsed onto the bed, arms still trapped behind him, gingerly avoiding landing on his hard, still glistening cock.

Kylo Ren shook his head, peeled off the condom, and tossed it on the floor. He stumbled into the refresher, hands splayed on the sink as he caught his breath. I followed, feeling as though my entire body vibrated. I activated the shower, pulled Kylo Ren into the hot spray with me, and began stroking his body. Almost weakly, he returned the gesture. It was as though he was drunk, and I could feel it too, the after effects of the temporary three-way sensory connection. I began soaping his body, running my fingers through his hair, down his sweaty back, around the base of his limp shaft. Even now, it stirred weakly, seemingly infused with inhuman stamina. He took my face in his hands and captured my mouth in a kiss. I couldn't think, I was so overcome with an insatiable desire at the sight of his spine arching smoothly as he fucked General Hux. I bit his lip, drawing blood, and he pulled me into him, our wet bodies pressing together under the flow of water, as if we couldn't get close enough. I felt it again, the feedback was starting, and this time, I didn't stop it.

Locking my eyes with his, Kylo Ren snaked his hand down between my legs and began running soapy fingers between my labia and I groaned, rested my forehead against his cheek. I was tired, but my body was responding to his touch, and so was his. I couldn't even begin to stop myself from expressing the sensory empathy at this point; it felt as though some barrier had been destroyed and I was in no state to rebuild it and contain it within myself. Something had happened between us, a bridge of connected nervous systems, built by my sensitivity to the flow of the Force between and through us.

When I felt a hand on my back, it almost seemed like the most natural thing in the world to see Hux stepping into the shower behind me. Kylo Ren and I maneuvered so that he could stand directly beneath the flow of hot water, and together we soaped him up, running our hands down his and each other's bodies, Hux's smooth and slight, Kylo Ren's muscled and lanky with light dustings of dark hair, and my own, soft and curvy. Without the third person, it had almost felt as if we had been lacking somehow, as if part of us had been missing and now we were whole again.

I was starting to lose track of whose hand belonged to whom; it seemed like we were one creature made of hands and mouths, soapy, wet flesh pressed together, sliding over one another, hooded, intoxicated eyes meeting and sharing thoughts without words. Hux's cock became hard first; he had not come before, when Kylo Ren had fucked him, and I pushed back against him now, loving the way his erection felt against my buttocks, and soon there was another bumping against my abdomen. Two mouths were on me, on my face, kissing and sucking at my neck and the tender place there where Kylo Ren had bitten me before, teeth on my shoulder, slippery hands sliding over my breasts and between my buttocks, underneath me and then back up my back. My hands roamed over hard chests and biceps, behind me to smooth, hairless testicles and across a flat stomach and hip bones, and then again before me, squeezing a meaty ass cheek. A firm forearm wrapped around me and gripped Hux's cock, and I felt that too, just as they felt it every time probing, questing fingers found my clit or the bundle of nerves around my anus. The line between us dissolved.

We were one organism, thinking and feeling together, with one sexual need to fill and be filled. I could feel their pulses and they matched my own steady, staccato pace. Without intending to, my Darksight bloomed into existence, and I could see that there truly were no barriers. The Force flowed and swirled between us, fluttering at each point of physical contact, and from the two men between whose chests I was pressed, I felt and saw the motes of power trickling into me, only slightly more quickly than it trickled out. On some level, I knew what was happening, but I neither had the ability nor the desire to stop it. If they were aware that I was siphoning their energy, they, too, seemed not to care. And then I felt the head of a cock slip between my thighs and I spread them, welcomed it into me as teeth and lips drank in the taste of the hot water on my skin. It was Kylo Ren, I recognized the girth as it stretched my cunt slowly. Seconds later, a second cock gently nudged me between my buttocks. Kylo Ren felt it and held very still inside of me. Without thinking, I spread myself, glancing over my shoulder at the pale eyes, flushed face, and parted pink lips of General Hux. I felt the tension bleed out of my muscles, and then he slipped into me slick with the soapy water. I cried out at the same time they did. Slowly, a rhythm began to build between them. Large hands supported me and I wrapped my arms around the neck in front of me while a mouth behind me kissed my neck, my shoulders. Arms wrapped around my sides from behind and gripped the body in front of me, holding us close, nearly crushing the breath out of me, and still I wanted more.

We completely lost all sense of self, groaning and grunting together, a chorus of unbridled, shameless ecstasy. Someone's finger found my clit and began moving against it, pinching it, rubbing it, building up the pressure in my spine until I thought I would explode, but the bodies pressing me wetly from either side seemed to hold me together.

Someone pulled my hair, and I felt fingers clawing my back. I shuddered and gasped as the movement inside of me churned and thrusted alternatingly. My toes went numb, and then every square centimeter of my awareness shrank down to a point of unbelievable, quivering potential power.

A shockwave coursed through me and in an explosion of sensation burst behind my eyelids, magnified threefold as I and the two bodies hemming me in came at once, filling me with their emission and their unfathomable ecstasy. The floor rose up beneath me and we collapsed under the running water together, a heap of wet, slippery bodies tangled together, shuddering as the aftershocks shook us.

When they slipped out of me, it seemed that a flood of warmth followed. I closed my eyes and leaned forward on Kylo Ren's panting chest as a heavy hand stroked my hair. Behind me, Hux began washing himself and me, still sitting on the floor of the refresher, and for a moment I couldn't think, I just enjoyed the sensation of his hand sliding over me, focused on that until the world seemed to shrink back down until I was once more alone inside of my own skin.

The water cut off, and suddenly, the air dryers kicked on, blasting the three of us awake. Kylo Ren slipped out of the shower and I slid out clumsily on top of him, scrambling on the floor, laughing suddenly at how wobbly my legs felt. Hux stayed behind, pulling himself shakily to his feet while the air dryers did their job. Kylo Ren climbed to his feet and pulled me up, brushed the hair out of my face and gave me a strange, mildly amused look as my laugh slowed to a chuckle. It tapered off and I sighed, feeling giddy.

Wearily, Kylo Ren walked into the bedroom, grabbed a towel to dry his hair, and slumped down on the edge of the bed. Hux, joined him and they both lay sprawled on the bed, just barely not touching. Kylo Ren's wide yawn quickly spread to the other man before he glanced over to me and patted the bed. I wasn't sleepy like they were. I thought with some amount of self-awareness that I'd siphoned energy from them both while they were inside of me, and I knew that I couldn't claim it as an accident this time. It felt very much like I'd drank half a liter of hotcaff, like my energy was buzzing beneath my skin, and it made me feel shaky and agile. Still, I stretched and walked over to the bed, admiring the marks on General Hux's pale body as I climbed on and crawled past him. I nuzzled Kylo Ren's stomach before I settled in the space between the two of them.

Hux, whose face was level with my ribs, turned on his side facing me and rested his head on me. I draped my arm over his shoulder comfortably. On my other side, Kylo Ren rolled to face me until it felt like I was at the center of a vortex of heavy, drowsy bodies.

Everything between my legs was sore, but the rest of me felt amazing. I closed my eyes and rested my head against Kylo Ren and basked in the glow of post-coital bliss.

* * *

Author's Notes 2: Look... I just. Uhm... yeah.

Music:  
Just some sexy music because it took me way longer to write this than it takes to read it  
The Touch of Your Skin - Trevor Something  
Bad Moon Rising - Palestra  
Girl I Love you - Massive Attack  
Ruiner - NIN  
Rev 22-20 - Puscifer

If you want more, I have a whole crazy playlist of stuff I listen to while writing. spotify link spotify:user:cyberspacewitch:playlist:2gZo6tkCELtHQqlebn7E4K


	37. The Calm and the Storm

For a while, I lay there with my eyes closed listening to the sounds of their breathing. I was wide awake, an island of alertness laying in the center of the stationary vortex of Kylo Ren and General Hux's naked bodies. Hux was nestled against my left breast, curled around me on his side, Kylo Ren curved over me on the other side with one arm under my head and the other draped over my torso. They weren't quite asleep, but neither were they fully awake.

I wondered if they could feel the power vibrating underneath my skin. I was having increasing difficulty laying still the longer that I tried. Though I should have been in a state of utter contentment, snugly cuddled between the two men as I was, I was feeling anxious. No, not anxious, just brimming with nervous energy. The fog of sexual torpor had begun to settle, and now I thought back to what I'd just participated in with slightly more clarity. It was a jumble of images, of bodies writhing together, lips and teeth and fingers. I hadn't been thinking of anything except riding that physical release, fulfilling my selfish desires, drinking the essence of both of them without care or caution.

It had felt much like inebriation, as though by opening myself to their sensory feedback, I'd ingested some intoxicant which made me act like a mindless rutting animal. I felt ashamed, somehow. In the midst of it, I'd felt like nothing would ever be enough to alleviate that want, that anything was worth that sense of unity. But now… my vagina and anus were sore, my muscles ached, and though I'd washed myself, I felt as though a film of corporeal disgrace born of giving in to my thoughtless base desires clung to my skin.

I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. I needed to stop thinking like that. Whatever we'd done, it was worth how I felt now. Whatever I'd taken from them during our carnal interlude was something to be savored. My theft of their essence had gone unnoticed, it seemed, and I felt that I needed to use such an achievement toward more productive ends, something other than laying there and appreciating the high. The way it made sounds seem sharper and made the sensation of touch nearly overwhelming for the abundance of information it seemed to deliver through my nerve endings. I felt their hearts beating, felt the blood rushing through their veins. I even thought I could feel their hair growing.

When I opened my eyes, the lights, still at around 70%, seemed so bright. It was as though I could see more depth of color beneath the greys and blacks of Kylo Ren's room. His bed cover was surprisingly soft against my bare skin, of finer quality than the standard issue blankets, I could tell. It seemed as though I could detect more elusive scent in the air. Steam from the refresher carried with it the scented washes we'd used, and underneath was the nearly indetectable, but heady, smell of sex.

I lightly stroked Kylo Ren's arm which lay limply across my body, his hand just barely touching Hux's face.

"Master," I said softly. He roused slightly, stretched his arm and hands, then settled again and made a noncommittal noise. His skin was warm and soft and still slightly damp from the shower. I continued. "I thought that perhaps we might discuss my vision. When I was meditating, the Force showed me something. It was... confusing."

"Later," he muttered. I scowled, and he must have felt my irritation because a finger lazily started to circle my navel. "Tell me all about it later, Riala. Fucking you both took a lot out of me."

" _You're_ tired, Ren?" Hux interjected, too worn out to speak with any heat. "Try being on the receiving end of that ridiculous bludgeon you call a cock."

"You've always been such a tightass. Even Riala couldn't loosen you up."

I felt the stirrings of anger peeking through the sluggishness in Hux as he tensed up, and decidedly interrupted the brewing argument.

"General, perhaps we should check the progress of the interrogation. Your men might have gained some ground with the prisoner," I said with some hope. Hux grunted and the irritation seemed to drain out of him. He curled down a little further and sighed, his breath hot against my skin.

"There's no need. I would have been told immediately. We have time, and I fully intend to use it to recover." He behaved as though the very act of speaking required more effort than it was worth, and soon I heard his breathing become slow and deep. He'd fallen asleep already.

With a long, drawn out sigh, I realized that I wasn't going to get anywhere with these two. Gently, I shifted the arm draped over me and slid Hux's head so that it lay on the bed, and then I sat up. I walked into the refresher, stretching my body, trying to relieve the soreness in my muscles. My Darksight had not yet faded. In fact, it seemed to be lingering much longer this time, and it made everything around me glitter faintly like the texture of water catching sunlight.

In front of the sink, I splashed water on myself, and then with a glance in the mirror, I was momentarily struck with my reflection. I took in the sight of the bruising on my body. Faint circles, darker than my skin, peppered my hips and breasts where Kylo Ren had grabbed me. Bite marks mottled the skin of my shoulders and neck, and there on one side was the dark brown and purple bruise where he'd bitten and sucked me so hard. At first, I felt embarrassed about these conspicuous imprints, proof of my indecent activities. But then, with a growing sense of confidence, I realized that there was no real reason to be ashamed.

Before, when I was still considered property, my body, and the marks upon it, had not been my own; they were the designs of my abusers and oppressors, marks born of my weakness and powerlessness. But now… gingerly, I touched the darker spot on my neck, a kiss of passion. Now, I bore the signatures of my lovers. Men whom I'd chosen for myself, who I'd seduced and used for my own gratification. Men whose very vitality was mine for the taking. Now, these shallow injuries were a mark of my freedom, _my_ power.

I met my eyes. In my reflection, I could see a kind of beauty that I'd never really noticed before. It wasn't elegant and feminine like Armata's, nor was it imposing and stunning like Phasma's. Mine was a sort of harsh beauty. With my hair the way it was, and my skin covered in the testament of rough sex, I looked almost savage. Fierce. I smiled at myself. My eyes looked far older than they were. I saw a wisdom in them and a fire that had not always been there. I breathed deep. I set to work untangling my hair. It was so much easier with its current style. Rifling through Kylo Ren's toiletries, I found the same hair product that I'd used before and combed it through my hair until it fell in layered, silky brown waves on one side. The glow of my Darksight started to fade, but the feeling of elation did not.

I felt that I could accomplish anything.

I went back into the bedroom. Without me as a buffer, the two men were almost touching. Hux was snoring softly with an arm thrown over his face and Kylo Ren had rolled over onto his stomach, pulling one side of the cover with him.

Looking on them now, I couldn't remember why I'd been so nervous before. _The two most powerful men in the First Order after Snoke_ , I thought with a smirk. Naked and sleeping, they seemed so harmless, so vulnerable. I wondered, with sudden morbidity, if I could, if I chose, drain them completely. If it were possible to consume every last spark of life energy until it was completely depleted. Until, I assumed, death. It seemed fully possible. Did even the Supreme Leader possess such an ability? I knew he was powerful, he had to be, but the way the Force worked through me was, by most accounts, unique. There had been whisperings, myths and rumors, that Darth Sidious was able to heal himself by stealing the energy of others. Supposedly, he had enslaved an entire planet of primitive sentients for this purpose. The notion seemed ridiculous, but still, I had to wonder.

I left them alone and entered the main room where I dug through the pile of clothing and I began to dress myself. If Snoke knew of this ability of mine, to take the vitality of others into myself, would he then consider me a threat or an asset? I felt better not knowing the answer to that. He seemed to think I was inconsequential, and for now, that seemed like a safe place to be. The more I thought back to my meeting with him and Kylo Ren, the more I remembered Snoke's utter lack of concern with me. _Oh yes. The slave_ , he'd said in his raspy voice, filling the chamber, and myself, with dread. Snoke was, at the very least, unimpressed with me. He didn't seem like the sort of being that suffered useless underlings. The way he'd made me feel diminished in only a few words and a probing larger-than-life stare… Kylo Ren may not have noticed, but to me, Snoke's disregard was clear, and it felt dangerous.

Perhaps it was time to show him what I could do.

I made sure to wear every component of my armor now. With a final look in the refresher mirror, I could see how impressive the effect was. I hooked the veil over my face as a final touch, and then left Kylo Ren's quarters. My destination: the detention block and the holding cell where Lor San Tekka waited with the key to my advancement locked away in his head. When I managed to extract the information that Snoke wanted, he would have no choice but to recognize my potential. If accepted into the Knighthood, I could fully train my abilities and become a conduit for the Dark Side. It wasn't an ideal future, and the idea of participating in the subjugation of the galaxy didn't sit well with me, but at this moment, I could only see two options before me: advancement or death. If discovering the location of the map was the only way to secure my survival, I would do whatever it took. So, I made my way through the ship, toward the detention level, making sure to walk with purpose.

On the way, I mentally went over the advice I'd been given before my last interrogation. For a moment, the memory of the Bothan stayed my ego. Guilt caused me to falter in my steps, but only briefly. It was a useless emotion, guilt. Once something was done, it was done. These people were the enemy, and empires weren't built on a foundation of compassion, they were built on the backs of the opposition.

An image came to me, then, of my harrowing, blood-soaked vision. I'd walked upon the bodies of the dead. And they had even lifted me up, pushed me forward. Had that been a symbol of things to come? Perhaps the bodies I'd seen beneath the surface were those of the Resistance and the Republic. But as soon as it occurred to me, I knew it couldn't be. I'd known those people somehow; their deaths and their vast numbers had saddened me. Without Kylo Ren's guidance, I found the vision no less incomprehensible. No matter. I had arrived at my destination.

The officer at the detention console listened to my story, that Kylo Ren wanted me to interrogate the prisoner from Jakku myself. After confirming my identity, she directed me to the correct holding cell without further question. I followed her directions, projecting the confidence of someone who wasn't lying.

Standing guard outside the holding cell door were two white-armored troopers. With the HUD on my visor, I could see their designation overlays and I recognized a familiar ID. It was Seven and a trooper I didn't know.

"JB-007," I greeted.

"Ma'am," he said, straightening to attention at the same time as the other. His voice was calm, all formality, but I felt the flush of recognition beneath his helmet. "We've been alerted to your arrival. The examiners are finishing now."

From behind the door, I heard a mechanical high-pitched whine that sounded like a drill followed by a muffled male voice crying out in clear agony. Outwardly, I held steady, but inside I felt as though my stomach had sunk into my feet, giving them extra weight.

"How long have they been interrogating him?" My eyes were fixed on the door.

"Two hours, this time. Before that, four." Seven's voice through the vocoder in his helmet sounded neutral, but I could feel the underlying tension in it.

While I'd been taking pleasure in the company of the two commanders, Lor San Tekka had been living through hell in the Finalizer's detention level.

"Please inform the interrogators that I have arrived. I'm in a hurry." I didn't know if I even had the authority to do such a thing, but I heard Seven's com pip as he relayed the message. The drilling sound, and the vocalizations, stopped. Seven straightened his head and addressed me.

"They're cleaning up. Will you need assistance?" Seven managed to sound as though he were hoping and dreading at once that I might say yes, and I shook my head, trying not to imagine what exactly needed to be cleaned.

"I am going in alone."

"We'll be outside the door if you need anything."

Before too long, the cell door opened. Two men wearing nondescript black uniforms, caps, and surgical masks exited in single file. One of them continued on. The other handed me a datascreen with information readouts, technical monitoring and logs of their session. I saw something about a droid armament called a bonedrill and looked away from it before I could read any more.

"Extraction serum was administered an hour ago," the man said, gesturing to the datascreen as if this information were uninteresting. "Not that it's done much good. He's locked down tight."

"Lor San Tekka?" I asked, dubious that an old man would be able to resist such methods. Really, I was shocked that he hadn't succumbed yet. The man looked confused for a moment, studying my face suspiciously.

"No. The prisoner from Jakku. Some pilot."

I kept my confusion to myself and nodded, trying to act as though I knew this but it had merely slipped my mind. When the man left, I glanced back down to the screen. It held little information on the subject himself, not even a name. I at least knew he was a pilot.

I urged my fluttering stomach to be still and took a deep breath. My mouth felt dry. I requested that Seven have water brought in, and then I stepped into the dark room. The room smelled like blood, sweat, and fear. A small wave of dizziness hit me as I momentarily forgot where I was, thought I might have found my way back to the mine in Pressy's Tumble. I closed my eyes against this confusion until it passed. I detected a chemical bite to the air that I couldn't quite place, and the smell of burnt hair which only made my throat feel drier. The light along the edge of the ceiling was subdued, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the island of light in the center of the room which illuminated the harness and the figure strapped into it in cold bluish-white light. For a long moment I stared and listened to the sound of his ragged breathing. A soft mechanical whirring noise, emanating from a hovering black spheroidal droid to my side, was the only other sound.

He was not an old man at all, but a considerably younger one. His head rested on the harness and his eyes were closed. His dark curls were plastered with sweat against his forehead and his tan skin had a pallor of exhaustion to it. His brows were furrowed and a sheen of sweat was visible on his face, mingled with streaks of red blood. I didn't immediately know what to do. I scanned the room around him. Coffin-shaped alcoves were built into the walls. One was illuminated so that the trays of torture instruments and prepped syringes were in full view. I noticed an empty syringe laying on its side, a drop of cloudy pink fluid clung to the tip of the needle as if it had been set aside in haste. I could assume that this was the "extraction serum" of which the interrogator had spoken.

When I turned back toward him, I had a minor shock when I realized that he was watching me. His gaze was smoldering beneath a fringe of long, thick black lashes which only emphasized the dull bloodshot cast to the whites of his eyes. A crease seemed permanently affixed between his brows and his square jaw was set firm with defiance. I could see a spot of blood on his right ribs, staining through his beige shirt. It looked dark and wet. Fresh.

Just then, a detention guard entered with a tray in her hand, eyeing the prisoner. Upon the tray sat a metal pitcher and cup. Chill condensation clung temptingly to the silver-colored exterior of the pitcher. There was no furniture in this room, so I just had her set it on the floor by the wall. I dismissed her. The man swallowed dryly and closed his eyes.

"Hey," he said. I looked at him dubiously. The voice that spoke was tired and hoarse, and at first I thought I'd misheard. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "You think you could hand me my jacket?" I was too surprised to immediately respond. He opened his eyes and looked at me, then gestured with his head to the side. In a heap on the floor lay a red and brown leather jacket. "The greatest firepower in the galaxy at your fingertips and you people can't afford proper heating."

I was a little taken aback by his nerve, to not only ask for his coat but also for that crack about the stinginess of the First Order. He didn't know who I was, but I wore the emblem on my sleeve like anyone else. I glanced toward the door of the cell and then at the jacket, and finally, to him. Sizing him up, I quickly determined that he was in no state to attack me or try to escape, and even if he did try something, I had no doubt that he would be susceptible to my wrath. Besides, Seven and the other guard were right on the other side of the door. He was breathing hard still, and I could hear a faint rattle in his chest. Broken ribs I thought, not wanting to probe with my empathy to know for sure. Whatever he was feeling, I didn't need to experience it myself. I picked up the coat and inspected the pockets and the interior lining for any hidden tools or implements that might assist an escape or be used as a weapon

"I'm not going to try anything, I promise," he said wearily as if he could read my thoughts. "I'm just cold." As if to emphasize this, he shivered and closed his eyes. I didn't miss how he wore a mantle of calm like a man who'd accepted his fate. upon closer inspection, I could see that he was in worse shape than I'd initially realized. The pallor and sheen of sweat of his face gave proof to the low-grade fever that seemed to be afflicting him. His lips were dry and cracked.

Jacket in hand, I pressed the controls that would unlock the arm cuffs. My empty hand hovered over the vibrostilleto's handle, the fastener already open for quick access if necessary. If General Hux or Kylo Ren saw me now, I would likely find myself thrown into one of these cells along with this man, whoever he was.

He hesitated before reaching for it. Then he tried to pull it on, but every movement seemed to pain him. When he grimaced, I could see a set of white teeth, webbed with blood. He probably had a very charming smile, I thought. Of course, I would never get to see it. When the act of putting the jacket on himself proved too difficult, I assisted him, holding it up so that he could slip his arms through the sleeves one after the other. I could see easy muscles beneath the material of his shirt. He was quite handsome overall, really, despite being in such poor condition.

I allowed him to straighten it and get settled again before, without any opposition from him, I returned his arms to their restraints. He sighed appreciatively and closed his eyes, returning his head to the position it had been in when I'd first entered. Either he was unafraid of me, or he was too pained and tired to care.

"Thanks." He said without looking at me. I remembered what Kylo Ren had said about speaking as little as possible when interrogating a subject, so I said nothing and just looked at him for a moment. He was strong, I thought, allowing just enough of my perception to touch him to get a read on him. And no, he was not afraid. Not of death, anyway. Something else, perhaps, but survival didn't factor into it. He was looking at me with one eye open, his head still reclined against the headrest. He swallowed dryly. I tried to remember how I'd begun on the Bothan spy, and I was stabbed with another unpleasant pang in my chest.

"I'm in for it now, aren't I?" he said.

I spoke before I could stop myself. "What?"

He exhaled slowly. "I just figure that if you're who they sent after those other guys, I'm in for a whole new level of hurt... I'll tell you what I told them: I'm not giving you anything. Just kill me now and save the trouble."

I didn't know what to say. Of course, they hadn't exactly sent me, but in a way, he was right. What I had done to the Bothan, what I was planning to do to him now, was far worse and deeper-cutting than any physical torment that Hux's interrogators could devise.

"I'm not going to kill you," I said quietly.

"Is that right?" He sounded utterly skeptical. His eyes took me in from my head to my toes before returning to my face. "What are you, special ops? Elite inquisitor corp?"

"Neither," I said finally. "I don't care about the map." The look he gave me was equal parts confusion and suspicion.

"Well you're not here for the company," he quipped.

"I was sent to help you recover before the next session," I said on impulse. His brows furrowed as he considered this and then the meaning set in. His forehead relaxed some and he stared blankly past me to the door, appearing for all the world to be a man devoid of hope. The lie had been hastily concocted, but he seemed to accept it. His deliberate bravado seemed to fall away leaving blank resignation. Already, I was breaking Kylo Ren's instructions, to not speak more than was necessary. But it seemed necessary in this case. He'd done well against the interrogators and the extraction serum, locked away information about the map fragment behind layers of mental barriers. If I wanted to bring that guard down, I'd have to try something else first. Gain his trust, perhaps. A friend among enemies. That, combined with my emotional Force projection, could be the way to break him. I tried not to think about that part yet. I needed to make him comfortable first, perhaps even get him to relax somewhat.

I walked over to the pitcher of water and poured a cup. When I turned, I could see that he was watching me closely. When I came closer, his eyes moved to the sloshing water almost involuntarily. I gestured it toward him, an offering. It was in my best interests that he be healthy enough to question, I rationalized to myself. It had nothing to do with how I'd winced to hear him cough so hoarsely. Slowly he turned back to look at me. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously, but still he swallowed and licked his cracked lips with a dry tongue. I could see the conflict behind his eyes as he tried to work out whether his pride or his thirst would win.

Finally, he seemed to give in to his thirst and nodded subtly. I brought the cup to his lips and slowly tipped it. The cold water seemed to shock him at first, and he shuddered and coughed after the first swallow, but then he wanted more and I delicately tipped the cup in small increments until it was empty. He coughed again and breathed, feeling some amount of relief now.

"More?" I asked, motioning toward the pitcher. He shook his head and closed his eyes. I could tell that he regretted giving in to that, but already some color was returning to his face, some strength returning to him. He almost felt something like hope.

"So you're a pilot," I said conversationally, setting the cup back on the tray.

"Not just a pilot. The best pilot in the Resistance," he answered with measured bravado. And then a moment later, "I know I don't look like much now, but I clean up nicely."

"I can imagine," I said. Despite myself, I smirked under my veil. His demeanor was admirable against such odds. He wasn't afraid of death. Something else, yes, as I distinctly sensed fear in him, but it was not the fear of survival.

After seeing firsthand who the Order considered their enemy, I couldn't pretend anymore that the threat we faced was some anonymous rabble. There was no great evil that sought to send the galaxy into chaos and disorder, which the First Order alone could correct. This man was just a man; an interesting, willful man on the wrong side of a conflict that was incomprehensible to me. As arbitrary as it might have been, I needed to do whatever I could to secure my future, a future which, as of right now, was not guaranteed.

It wasn't enough to just exist. I needed to try and prove my worth to Snoke. The Dark Side and those that followed its tenets did not look with mercy upon those that did not serve its ends. I thought back to my vision, how, when I'd stood upon that blood red mire above the bodies of the fallen, I had begun to sink. It was only when I moved forward that I stayed above them. The meaning of that seemed clear to me now.

I sighed quietly to myself, trying to gather the will to progress this process to the next step. The man was watching me with his head back again, tired. His lids were half open. I could sense that he knew something was about to happen. His apprehension spoke volumes, but I couldn't let it distract me.

I breathed in deeply through my nose and let it out slowly through my mouth, counting to ten each time until my heart slowed. To his credit, the man said nothing, not did he display fear of any kind.

I thought about tapping into my feeling of vigor and power and the life I'd stolen from Kylo Ren, but that wasn't the kind of emotion I needed. I knew myself well enough and my limitations to see my doubts and conflict as potential interference, and I didn't want to infuse him with confidence and reinforce his barriers accidentally. I needed to find something pure, and I thought I might know where to find it.

I let out a long, slow breath until my surroundings faded. I gently pushed aside the sound of my own heartbeat. When I smelled the wood smoke, I knew I'd found my deepest emotions and the childhood memories they were tied to. What was it about that particular scent that seemed so significant?

I started to feel the warmth from the little ball of flickering light expand to fill me. It felt as though I were sitting before a small fire, and that my life force comprised the sparks that it produced. Calm overtook me, and I made sure to spare some for the prisoner. He was still tense, but I felt the first hints of relaxation when my calm radiated and moved over him like a warm breeze in this chill room.

Slowly, a memory came to the surface, drawn up by the emotion like an anchor being pulled up from dark waters.

There _was_ a fire. It crackled and put off heat and light. And yes, the scent of wood smoke was clearer now that I had found its source. This was a fire which had been lit with some frequency, I remembered, so well was it ingrained in my childhood. But not by me. A woman with a tinkling laugh and sad, liquid eyes. My mother.

 _Mother_. My breath caught in my throat. The wood smoke was never alone, it was always accompanied by other smells, fresh, pungent, green things. Herbs. Medicinal ones.

She had been an artisan of some kind, a cook or… a healer. She was making a poultice, I thought with sudden clarity, though I could remember no other detail. I thought that perhaps, if I concentrated, I might be able to recall her face… yet no matter how I tried, her features remained obscured and out of focus, all but the memory of pale eyes which held a depth of sadness.

I breathed deeply again, the scent of wood smoke fading. I took in a breath through my nose and then I released it through my mouth, opening my eyes as I did so. With that breath I radiated the feeling of love and safety. My stolen vigor gave it strength.

The prisoner's eyes were distant, his brow tensed slightly. His breathing had calmed. He was no longer in the holding cell. Wherever he was, it was easing his stress incrementally, and I wondered what he was experiencing.

"How do you feel?" I asked, keeping my voice low. The man seemed to shake out of it a little, his eyes moving around the room as though he'd forgotten where he was for a moment. He glanced at me, confusion briefly creasing his brow.

"Pretty good actually," he said, sounding puzzled. "I was thinking about being someplace else."

I studied his face, genuinely curious. "Where?"

"The cockpit of my mom's fighter," he answered. Then his eyes flickered to mine as if he just realized he'd spoken aloud. His jaw tightened and he looked away. The extraction serum was doing its job, I thought with a grim sort of satisfaction. Most interestingly, the emotions which had conjured the lost memory of my own mother seemed to have had the same effect on him.

"Your mother was a pilot, too?"

"Yes," he answered more readily.

"Your father as well?"

"He was a soldier," he answered with a pang of sadness. "Both of them were war heroes."

I absorbed this information, and his use of the past tense, with silent understanding. If this man was in his early to mid-thirties, that would put his birth not so long before the fall of the Empire. His parents must have fought against the Imperial forces on the side of the Rebellion. That was very interesting to me and something about it gave me pause. I'd suspected that my home town had been raided because it was inhabited by Resistance sympathizers. For all I knew, my mother and father had been part of the Resistance themselves. It would explain the harsh clearcut style of the raid in which I was captured as a child. Depending on their ages, maybe they'd even fought against the Empire alongside this man's parents. Anything was possible.

"I know what you're doing," he remarked then, interrupting my musings. I looked up to find smoldering eyes looking on me with scrutiny. "Thanks for the water. But this buddy buddy thing you're doing? It won't work."

I kept my eyes blank while inside my thoughts churned. He was sharp, I realized. There was real intelligence behind that hooded, bloodshot gaze. It seemed that he didn't buy my story about being here to help him recover.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked. He paled slightly and turned away, his jaw tensing.

"Stay. Leave. I don't care. I'm not telling you anything, so forget it."

I couldn't read thoughts, but the emotional read I'd gotten from him when I asked if he wanted me to leave belied his apparent indifference. He didn't want to be alone right now.

"I'd like to stay if it's all the same," I said, moving over to the water pitcher and refilling the cup. "To be honest, my superiors don't know that I'm here."

Measured, careful doses of the truth to build up trust, I thought. It had nothing to do with the fact that I wanted to know more about him, wanted to confide in him, just a little bit. When I walked up to him again, he was looking at me once more with a baffled expression on his sweaty face.

"Who are you?"

"I'm just a person, like you, who ended up on one side of a conflict greater than myself," I answered, offering him the cup. After a moment's pause, he accepted and I carefully tipped it between his lips a little at a time, allowing him to catch his breath in between sips. "Just trying to survive."

"You're nothing like me," he said sharply, meeting my eyes without blinking. The hand holding the cup slowly lowered and I tilted my head, feeling heat rising on my face. "Not if you can be complicit in…" he looked around the cell pointedly, and then rested his eyes on the interrogator droid. "This."

I tried to shrug off his judgement, but his words had struck a nerve. My mind wandered to the mine, the settlement on Jakku, my former home on the forest moon. Doubtless there had been countless other attacks and raids and oppressed people just like those throughout the history of the First Order, stretching back to before I was even born. It was impossible to think of life outside of this efficient military machine. From my perspective, it seemed very much like the rest of the galaxy didn't stand a chance, and if I intended to survive, I was on the right side of the blaster barrel.

"You're not afraid of death?" I asked. He closed his eyes and sighed wearily.

"Not if I die for something worth dying for. Not if my death helps to protect the lives of the countless billions that would suffer under the First Order's rule." This was spoken with such conviction and such sincerity that for a moment, I could form no rebuttal. This was getting too deep, I thought, feeling my heart beat a little harder. His cause seemed so noble, but I didn't understand it. I couldn't comprehend feeling so strongly about something that I would lay down my life for it. It seemed like such a foolish waste. No one could do any good if they're dead.

I needed to step back. Why had I thought that I could do this? I was getting nowhere. It was time to try again, to make him open up to me, to accidentally say something which would give away the map's location. I finished the water in the cup and set it on the tray, trying to calm my thoughts. He needed to trust me. Perhaps I could dredge up the feeling of security, like I'd done before.

When was the last time I'd felt safe? Truly safe? For sixteen years, I lived with the understanding that, at any moment, I could be punished for doing or saying the wrong thing, and I knew the nature of those punishments with great intimacy. The closest thing I could think of was the way Captain Phasma made had me feel when she'd come to my rescue. Those times, the very sight of her had filled me with such hope. I felt more secure in her arms than I did in anyone else's. Thinking about her was helping me relax and find that feeling of security.

I thought about her gleaming armor, so pristine, as though her surroundings couldn't touch her. Even the dank, damp darkness of the mine caves hadn't tainted her. The way her chrome trooper suit had reflected the green and red lights so that they twinkled like stars when she stood outside of the meeting room on level 77 alpha… even after she'd ordered the cadets to fire on the negotiators, she'd somehow managed to avoid getting blood on herself…

The lightness in my stomach soured.

Something had definitely changed since that deployment. I had known, but I had never seen, exactly how ruthless she could be. Reading about successful missions in her personnel log was very different from experiencing what one looked like firsthand.

My heavy heart threatened to weigh me down. Desperately, I sought something that I could use. The pilot watched me with mute curiosity while I tried to get control over my emotions. I needed something… something from before the Order. Something pure.

Something like strong arms, wrapped around me, an embrace that could deflect all of the horrors in the world. There seemed to be something there of that nature deep in the recesses of my mind, and I honed in on it eagerly.

A deep voice, booming, large as the sky. I recognized it from my last attempt to access this sense of security. It was my father's. He would show me something sometimes, I thought, knitting my brows in concentration. Something of his work. It had to do with the military, though I couldn't quite…

 _If you don't take after your mamma, you could always be a mechanic like your old man,_ the deep, gentle voice intoned. I remembered looking at something so technical and impressively complicated, while strong, dark arms held me up so I could see. I felt so safe with him. Truly, my father could make anything seem fascinating. Even… an engine. An X-wing engine.

I was so startled, I came close to losing the thread of memory, and I scrambled to regain it. Despite my efforts, it slipped away and I gradually became aware of my present surroundings once more. My heart was pounding and my eyes felt itchy. I wiped them with the back of a sleeve and smeared the moisture that had been collecting in them. The prisoner hadn't noticed. As before, his eyes were distant. I cleared my throat, regained my composure, steadied my breaths.

"What are you feeling?" I asked in a low, soothing tone, perhaps trying to mimic my father's and the way it made me feel untouchable.

"Just remembering how my mom would take me up in her fighter sometimes," he said vaguely. "She would even let me 'fly' the ship, but of course she'd held the controls the whole time…"

It was sweet, I thought, the way he spoke of her. I felt a spike of envy that he got to know his mother so well. "She must have taught you everything you know."

"She's the one that made me want to be a pilot. I only really feel at home when I'm in a cockpit. I remember how she'd take me over the tops of the trees… how they looked like they were on fire in the red light."

I was only half listening, distracted by the thought that he might actually be close to ready for the next phase of the interrogation. If I didn't want to sink, I had to move forward, I thought. "Red light?"

"Yeah… of the planet. When the sunlight hit it just right and the moon was in the right position, it set the green leaves of the forests alight."

Something about what he was saying was significant. A voice at the back of my head nagged me to think, to piece it together, but my mind was moving sluggishly. A hollow ache began to build in my chest. It was impossible.

"What planet?" I asked, sick with anxiety. He didn't notice my tone. He was gone. His barriers were down, I noted. He was completely relaxed. He might have been susceptible to my wrath at this moment, enough to accidentally reveal the location of the map, but I didn't care about Kylo Ren or Supreme Leader Snoke or the First Order. I cared about one thing. "What moon?"

"Yavin," he answered simply, as if the answer were obvious. "Yavin 4." His thoughts likely still far away on those fiery treetops, soaring through the sky in his mother's X-wing.

My head reeled. I felt as though the floor had been taken away, as though I were on the verge of falling.

I felt cold, clammy, like I was going to be sick. I couldn't breathe. Numbly, I unhooked my veil and turned away, using every ounce of my willpower to keep my breathing steady. _Now_ , a malicious voice in my head urged. _Strike now and he will tell you everything._

"What is your name?" I asked, struggling against the tremor which seemed to want to creep into my voice.

"Poe. Poe Dameron," he answered. I didn't know the name, there was no reason that I would, I didn't even know my own name before I was Riala, but it seemed important that I know his name, this man from my homeworld. I turned back to him to find him watching me. He was still calm, but now more alert. I'd missed my chance to strike, to corrupt his memories of security, of being loved, with a lash of wrathful pain. The fact was, I didn't want to destroy his memories, memories of a life I'd never had and would never have. His parents were dead now, and he would never have them again, the memory was all he had of them. His brows furrowed. "You look like someone I used to know once. A long time ago."

I couldn't think about that. He was wrong. He would have been a teenager when I was born. The thought that he and I could have possibly living on the same moon, perhaps the same colony, when I was born was too much for me to wrap my head around. Perhaps, though… I'd had siblings once. An older brother. I couldn't think.

"Your superiors really _don't_ know that you're here, do they?" He asked me quietly. I met his eyes and then looked away toward the door to the cell. Surely by now Kylo Ren and General Hux had noticed my absence. The thought of them, specifically of my Master, coming now, was unbearable. I felt desperate. My palms felt like they were sweating through my gloves, and my leather tunic felt too tight.

"No, but they are coming soon and…" I started, my mouth working faster that my brain could. What was I saying? I just knew I needed to tell him something. "You don't stand a chance against them, Poe," I stated, fear clenching in my chest as I realized what was happening, what I was doing. Concern furrowed his brow and his lips parted. My genuine anxiety was starting to bleed into him. Consciously, I withdrew it and tried to get a hold of myself.

"You don't understand-"

"No _you_ don't understand. You have no idea what you're up against. _Who_ you're up against." My words were coming fast, my voice hard. "If you resist him, he will rip it out of your mind. Nothing will matter then, nothing except what he wants."

I was speaking from experience, and I tried to impress upon him the seriousness of what I was saying. His face hardened and his lip twitched as he looked away. He didn't ask who I was referring to. He knew Kylo Ren.

"Don't resist him. Please," I said, more softly. I heard the tremor in my voice. I didn't want this man to die. I didn't want him to be subjected to the agony of a forced mind probe. I wanted to help him, but there was nothing I could do. Nothing except warn him, prepare him. "You _will_ fail."

He was afraid now, unnerved. But as I read him, the only thing that was stronger and clearer than the fear was strength of his will and his resolve. He was stubborn, and he was not going to willingly give up anything, no matter the personal cost.

He didn't understand.

"If you're done here, I could use some shut eye before the next round." His voice was hard, but I didn't miss the small break in it. He was exhausted, but more than that, he wanted to face his death alone. I felt as though my chest were caving in. Why wouldn't he listen to me? I swallowed. I reattached my veil so that it covered my face, and I turned to grab the tray of water off of the floor.

I thought about pleading with him further. Perhaps trying again with the memories and the projected emotions, to try and get the information out of him more gently, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not now that I knew more about him, I couldn't be the one to make him break like that and betray his people.

As I pressed the button on the door panel and it opened, I glanced behind over my shoulder. His eyes were closed and his face turned to the side slightly. I could sense the emotions roiling in him, but more than that, I could sense the intense fatigue. I paused in the doorway and tried to find a mote of stillness, of calm, somewhere inside of me, something left of the memories I'd dredged up. I gave him a small measure of it, felt it sink into him, and then I stepped into the hallway. The door closed behind me.

Seven was staring at me without guard, and when I saw him, he turned away quickly. Awkwardly, he reached for the tray I still held and I gave it to him.

"Ma'am," he said uncertainly, and then on a private channel, "Riala. Are you alright?"

I didn't feel like answering him, so I waved him away dismissively and then stepped across the hallway to lean on the wall opposite the holding cell door. I think he went off with the tray, confused, but I couldn't spare the soldier any thought at the moment. My head was spinning, and I felt like I needed to lean my forehead against the wall to keep from losing my footing.

The odds that the prisoner and I were from the same homeworld were, well, astronomical. Either he had to be wrong, or the First Order's records were, but I was as sure of the Order's efficiency with their acquisition data as I was of that man's sincerity. He'd spoken of the light from the red planet so descriptively, and as he'd said those words, I could picture it in my mind, as if a seal had been broken. The way half the sky would look red, and how it seemed that the days were so long… of course, as a child, everything seemed to last far longer than it did, but from my research, I'd learned that Yavin 4 was tidally locked with its parent planet. I remembered something about a night edge. It had seemed like a distorted, nonsensical child's dream, being able to run from day to night, but if the moon was tidally locked, its days would last a month. I was starting to re-examine so many things that had seemed like fantasy, a lonely child's inventions, stories to make the quiet hours seem less desolate.

My mother… I felt a sob threaten, and I pushed it down with such force that I might have made a sound. Self-consciously, I looked down the hallway, both ways. Far on one end, a two-soldier patrol was approaching. From the other end, Seven was returning, and his fellow guard was still standing stoic at the door. The other guard was not paying any attention to me, however. I sucked in a deep breath, filled my lungs to capacity, and I held it there. I held it until I thought my lungs would burst, and then I let it out again, slowly.

Seven said nothing to me after resuming his position, but something told me he was concerned. I turned around and faced the cell door, utterly expressionless over my veil. I examined my glove, brushed a speck of dirt off of my forearm. I affected well-practiced nonchalance while my brain raced to process how my world had been rocked on its axis.

My mother, a healer. My father, a mechanic. If Poe's mother was an X-wing pilot, and my father a mechanic, it was very possible that they'd met each other, assuming that they'd lived on Yavin 4 at the same time. Already the limits of probability were being stretched, but I couldn't stop the thought from occurring. Had one of them been Force sensitive? I had no idea. _The blood of the mothers bathes the sisters and the brothers._ The old woman from my vision. Whatever the true meaning of the riddle, one thing I got from it was the part about mothers. Mothers' blood.

I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose against the headache that loomed on the horizon. This was too much to process right now. I felt like my skin was crawling, like tiny imaginary insects were dancing along my nerve endings.

No, I wasn't imagining it. Kylo Ren was coming. And he was angry.


	38. Rebellion and Ruination

See end of chapter for notes.

* * *

I clenched my fists tightly and started to pace in the hall outside of the cell, not caring that I had an audience. Seven knew better than to say anything further to me, it seemed. I appreciated that he gave me space, for if I could sense Kylo Ren's anger from here, I knew it was strong. But then I didn't actually know where he was. Immediately I concocted every scenario that might inspire such an emotion, the first and most frightening being that he somehow had become aware of what I'd taken from him.

Why had I been so foolish as to think I could get away with it? As my mind worked, however, something told me that this was not what angered him so. After such a transgression, I would have been apprehended by security immediately and thrown into a cell. Could it be my little jaunt to the detention block? Surely not, this was a minor offense at worst… but then I remembered how I'd lied to the officer at the check-in. And then how I'd sent away Hux's interrogators. And then how I'd lost my nerve to do any damage to the prisoner in order to extract the information, effectively interrupting the interrogation process with no real justifiable results.

If this is what angered Kylo Ren, I would have to face him. It wasn't as though I could hide from him on this ship. I couldn't seem to focus, my mind too muddled by thoughts of Yavin 4 and the possibility that the prisoner had come into contact with my family at some point.

I saw movement at the far end of the corridor. The door which partitioned the sections of hallway was opening. To my surprise, the man I saw emerging through it was not the one I'd expected.

General Hux and I made eye contact across the distance and I immediately felt his anger rise at the sight of me. He'd dressed himself again, of course, though he seemed to be lacking his uniform cap. Draped over his shoulders was his broad-shouldered greatcoat and it swept behind him like a cape as he moved. The cold, subdued lighting of the corridor cut his face into hard, sharp planes that from this distance made him appear fairly sinister, so like the first time I'd seen him in his quarters. He was approaching me with swift, measured strides and I felt the irrational urge to run. I could understand now why Dameron had wanted his jacket; suddenly everything felt very cold.

"Resume your post elsewhere," he ordered, addressing the guards. The two men snapped their heels together and left us uncomfortably alone in this section of the corridor. For a moment I was torn between meeting his eyes with confidence and casting mine down in deference. I settled on addressing his terse mouth until I knew what had him so incensed.

"General-"

"If you have any respect for that rank, you won't speak again without my permission. Do you understand me?" His words were sharp and held about as much warmth as his eyes. It had been a while since I'd last seen his anger and I had a mental image of him kicking the sand bag in the officer's rec facility, bursting it in a show of inebriated, yet controlled, rage.

"Yes." For some reason, the words ' _bone drill'_ echoed in my mind.

"I thought that I'd made it clear that the prisoner was of no concern to you. Perhaps, then, you can imagine my shock when I was informed that you'd begun interrogation. It seems that one of my inquisitors was surprised when you came to take over, and wisely thought to confer with me." His aristocratic face was hard and extraordinarily pale in this lighting, though I didn't miss that his blue eyes seemed a little puffy, perhaps even subtly red-rimmed. "I thought _he'd_ ordered you, behind my back. I didn't want to believe that you could commit such treachery. What were you thinking?!"

"How am I supposed to answer that?"

"You may want to restrain your propensity for impertinence at this time," he snapped. "It ceased to be amusing the moment you chose to commit treason."

" _Treason_?!" I uttered, outraged. Hux bared his teeth slightly before closing them behind tight lips, and it was then that I realized that he was having uncharacteristic difficulty restraining his temper.

"You're _surprised_? So you mean to say that _wasn't_ your goal?"

"Of course not," I replied quickly, indignant and angry.

"Then perhaps it was egotism. Perhaps you thought you could do better than my elite inquisitors."

I fell into a sullen silence, dropping my eyes and noting the faint wrinkles I could see in his uniform jacket. I knew they were from being left haphazardly on the floor and suspected that that was the reason he'd chosen to retrieve his greatcoat, in an attempt to cover them up.

I heard the creak of leather as he clenched his fist.

"It seems that your _teacher's_ overinflated sense of self-importance has rubbed off on you. This is the second time you have undermined my professional authority, Riala. I can't afford to overlook your noncompliance any longer. Not only might you have jeopardized the entire interrogation, but-" suddenly, he stopped himself and glanced behind him before leaning in and saying in a lower voice, "you have seriously wounded _me_ in the process."

This elicited an unwanted stab of guilt in me which I immediately overlaid with scorn. He was taking this personally, something I hadn't expected. In truth, I hadn't considered Hux at all when I had decided to act, so consumed had I been by the desire to save my own skin.

"I didn't mean to," I said uselessly, unsure of how else to respond to such a candid confession and considering an expression of disdain to be unwise.

"Regardless, the fact that I haven't heard from you tells me that you were unsuccessful."

I studied his boots, which hugged his slim calves as if they'd been molded to them. In response to my silence, he made a small derisive noise.

"I thought as much. The damage you've caused will have to be assessed. At best, you've set the process back many hours. At worst, the subject could prove unresponsive to further interrogation, which will place you under suspicion of deliberate sabotage."

"Your interrogators weren't even close," I blurted finally, irritated with him and my irrational guilt. "He was nowhere near being broken when I went in there. If anything, he may now prove to be _more_ susceptible to your efforts." I fervently hoped that this was true, that my pleas had made some impact upon him and that he would stop resisting for his own sake.

"Is that a fact? Thank you for your uneducated assessment of the situation. Forgive me if I don't give your opinion much weight." This last part was said with an ugly sneer, and I felt my own lip twitch in response. My palms itched and I blinked away a burning in my eyes.

"If I'd succeeded, I would have been doing you a favor."

" _If_ you'd succeeded, I'd be the first to sing your praises," he said lightly, sarcastically. "But you didn't, did you? If you were one of my officers, I would have you discharged without court-martial and punished in a manner befitting a traitor."

I was stunned and for a moment, I felt panic that this might actually end up being my fate. Had I truly made such a great misstep? He studied my eyes for a moment, and then his eyes dropped to my mouth and his face softened slightly.

"Fortunately for both of us, you're not subject to the same regulations as a ranking officer. Still, your actions may have far-reaching effects that could hinder the success of Leader Snoke's goals. I assure you that there will be consequences."

I found myself somewhat distracted from his words when a tugging on my chest and a faint prickling on my skin told me that I might have to face those consequences sooner rather than later.

Both Hux and myself turned simultaneously to see the approaching figure of none other but Kylo Ren. As soon as Hux saw him, he cursed under his breath. Quickly, he turned away as if to hide his face. I saw the dread and irritation flash across his features before he could stop them. Apparently he wasn't looking forward to seeing him either.

Either they had deliberately left the commander's quarters at different times to avoid suspicion, or Kylo Ren had needed more time to get ready. Either way, I was now to face both of them at once. My stomach sank and I wanted to follow it until I disappeared into the floor.

As he drew near, his ebon mask zeroed in on me with unwavering, unsettling focus and then I felt his questioning presence surround me. I scrambled to raise my own barriers. My heart pounded and fear flourished in my chest for what I might have accidentally given away.

" **I see you have found my wayward student, General,** " that thick, modulated voice spoke. How unreadable he must be to those without empathic abilities, I thought. His words and bearing illustrated utter disdain while his emotional feedback indicated otherwise. As I'd sensed before, he was angry.

"She has gone too far this time, Ren. Even you can't deny that she may have put everything at risk," Hux said, his voice clipped.

" **Perhaps she felt, as I did, that the process was moving too slowly.** " Concealed by my veil, I gaped at him, astonished. Was he _defending_ me?

"Are you saying that you condone her actions? Would you be willing to say as much to Supreme Leader Snoke?" Some color seemed to be returning to Hux's face as he had increasing difficulty keeping a professional façade of disinterest.

" **Of course not. I am simply saying that your interrogators should have made some progress by now.** "

"My inquisitors are unmatched in their skill. Snoke himself approves of my methods," Hux said defensively.

" **Then how do you explain their failure?** "

"Failure?!" Hux spluttered for a moment before he saw the deliberate provocation for what it was. "The process was incomplete when it was interrupted. Information extraction is a delicate process, Ren. It requires finesse, not brute force. A concept you are likely unfamiliar with."

" **You're sure? Maybe a demonstration is in order,** " Kylo Ren said in a mocking tone, an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

"We don't have _time_ for this," Hux snapped, trying to conceal his nervousness behind condescension.

" **Don't worry. This won't take long.** " Before Hux could respond, the knight waved his hand over the panel and the door opened. He strode in. In the brief window before the door sealed shut again, I could see the sleeping form of the Resistance pilot in the harness. The door closed.

" _Fuck._ This is _just_ what I needed," Hux muttered, glancing toward an approaching patrol. The stormtroopers saluted before passing us and continuing on their way. And then it was just myself and Hux in the hallway. I could tell by Hux's expression that he was in no mood to talk to me. Clearly he had other things on his mind.

I didn't want to speak to him either, and so I was left to trying not to think about what was happening in the holding cell. I leaned against the wall opposite the cell door, entertaining ridiculous fantasies of fleeing the Order somehow, stealing a spaceship and perhaps a pilot, and escaping through hyperspace. And then I completed the scenario, where I pictured myself living out the rest of my life in fear, seeing in every shadow the lanky, black-cloaked form and dark mask. There was no escaping this. There was no escaping him.

Just then, there was an anguished, muffled scream on the other side of the door and it was as though ice had been injected into my veins. I tensed up, fatigued muscles flexing as if to run. I had a unique insight into what was happening in that room. I knew well the way it felt to have my thoughts and memories forcibly extracted. How, with but a gesture, Kylo Ren had seemed to tear my mind from the confines of my skull, my memories and long faded emotions coming back with unwelcome and sickening clarity. A cold sweat stood out on my brow and I felt that I couldn't breathe. _Please_ , I thought with feverish longing, _please don't kill him._ I stared at the cell door, only slowly becoming aware of the fact that General Hux was watching me with a curious scrutiny. The screaming trailed off and then fell silent.

The door opened and Kylo Ren strode out with assured confidence. The pilot was limp in the harness, and I sensed that he was now truly unconscious. At least he was alive, I thought. Kylo Ren spared me no more than a brief glance as he exited. His casual disregard carried with it an unmistakable message. Then he spoke, answering the unasked question.

" **It's in a droid,** " he said calmly, turning to face a perfectly composed Hux. " **A BB unit.** "

"Well then," Hux responded without missing a beat. "If it's on Jakku, we'll soon have it." Somehow he managed not to falter or even blink under the weight of that smug satisfaction. His act was convincing, but I could feel the way he despised the other man for this victory.

" **I leave that to you.** " Kylo Ren didn't wait for a response before turning and walking away. I saw Hux's façade of arrogance slip just a fraction once the other man was no longer looking, as the set of his mouth sank into a subtle frown. With a sour glance to me, he turned to leave, already delivering orders through his comms.

" **Riala** ," the gritty liquid-tar voice spoke then, grabbing my attention from where he stood in the corridor waiting. I scurried to follow. Seven and the other guard resumed their posts outside the cell door as we passed them, but I knew I would find no help from them. I decided to try and appeal to my Master's dislike for Hux in the hope that it might alleviate his current dissatisfaction with me.

"The General was a fool to question your skill," I commented, glancing uncomfortably toward the tall figure walking beside me.

Without warning, he rounded on me and I backed involuntarily into the wall before cursing my automatic response. An approaching patrol of three stormtroopers faltered and then diverted their course down a separate hallway when they saw the budding altercation.

" **Do you care so little for your own life that you would interfere with official matters?** " He asked, his voice rising. I stared into the black abyss if his visor, hoping that my bravery would make up for my initial show of weakness.

"Of course I care. I did what I thought I had to do to save myself!"

" **You may have ensured your doom. Not even I am above the laws of the Supreme Leader,** " he snarled. I moved toward him, standing at my full height, channeling the Force into a barrier against his power, which had begun to bear down upon me. He continued. " **Make _no_ mistake, Riala. Our off-duty interactions don't elevate you above the chain of command.** "

"Apparently they don't do much for your capacity to reason either," I retorted forgetting myself in my anger. "You're more of a fool than I thought if you believe that Snoke intends to actually train me."

Suddenly, his aura swelled and hit me and the impact forcefully displaced me backwards a few feet. He had trained me well, it seemed, for I hadn't lost my footing. My balanced stance and my barriers were all that had kept me upright. I steeled myself against further attacks.

" **You _dare_ to speak of him with such familiarity,** " he growled dangerously, moving to occupy the space that had grown between us after his push. This time I didn't back away.

"It's because you are so close to him that you can't see it," I accused, my voice rising. I thought I might hit him if he came any nearer to me. My hand twitched as wrath poured into it. "Your affections for me blind you, _Kylo._ He is likely to kill me, or have you kill me before he'll _ever_ make me an apprentice."

He moved forward and three things happened in quick succession at that moment: he grasped my arm in a painful grip, gestured with his other arm, and then, with his full strength, hurled me backwards. Expecting to hit a wall, I lost all sense of equilibrium when instead I was thrown through an open door. I crashed against the back wall of the small holding cell before crumpling onto a built-in bench. He moved in, blocking the open doorway with his body. I had the sickening realization that my palm was on the handle of my vibroblade as if prepared to draw it. Shakily I moved it away, my eyes on the hilt of his lightsaber. I couldn't ignore how his hand hovered near it.

" **My _affection_? I feel _nothing_ for you beyond your capacity to serve the Supreme Leader.** " The spike of anxiety I felt amidst the tempest of his anger gave me bitter satisfaction even through my shock and belied the falsity of his claim.

I caught my breath and then sat forward, noting that he hadn't thrown me hard enough to cause injury. Even now he was restraining himself, further proof that what I'd said was true.

"You lie to yourself, then, but Snoke is not so easily fooled. I was doomed before I even decided to interrogate that pilot. He humors you like a child, allowing you to keep me like a pet until I no longer prove useful."

" **If freedom sits so uncomfortably with you, perhaps you would prefer a cage. At least here you can cause no further harm.** "

It took me a moment to realize what he was saying. I leapt up and moved toward him, but he was faster. He stepped back and gestured. The cell door closed between us just as I rushed up to it, slamming it with my fist.

I could feel him standing motionless just on the other side of the door. And then he turned to leave, withdrawing his presence until I could no longer sense him, and he was gone.

Furious and desperate, I screamed savagely, beating the door even though I knew he wouldn't hear me and wouldn't care. I pounded my fists against the metal until the bones of my hand were sore, and then until my hands went numb. Then I paced to the bench and back, ripping off my veil and helmet, throwing them against the wall with a growl. I cursed my stupidity, pressing my knuckles into my temples.

With as much will as I could muster, I tried to channel the Force through my hands to move the cell door, but as with my attempts to move the plant, my power had no effect on it.

I gave up after about a dozen attempts, and resumed pacing the perimeter of the cell. Poe Dameron was a pilot, I thought. If I managed to get out of this cell, and if he were physically able, perhaps I could use my powers of persuasion to convince him to hijack a ship with me and flee far away from the Finalizer. It was a stupid thought. I had no doubt that we would be destroyed long before we managed to escape the hangar. Not only that, but I really didn't think I could fool the detention level liaison officer a second time. Still, it was a pleasant fantasy. I allowed myself to imagine escaping the range of the Star Destroyer's weapons, jumping to lightspeed, escaping this system with Dameron. And then what? We retire to Yavin 4 together for a little vacation? Kylo Ren knew that was my home world, and that I'd shown interest in my past. It was likely be one of the first places he'd look.

Frustrated, I slumped onto the bench, my forehead in my hands, staring blankly at the floor between my feet. As soon as they found the droid, the Finalizer would head back to Starkiller Base. I was pretty sure that there would be no escape for me after that. Trapped in this cell, I was at his mercy.

As soon as I thought that, I couldn't help but utter a bitter laugh. At the mercy of a man like him? And General Hux? They were fond of me, of that there was no doubt, but despite Hux calling me his Master after I'd spanked his ass to bruising, I doubted it would save me in this situation. His first loyalty was to the Order, and Kylo Ren's first loyalty was to Snoke. Mercy was not in their vocabulary.

After sitting for an indeterminate amount of time in the tiny room and allowing myself too much time to wallow in my self-pity, I let my eyes close, hating that I could not leave the cell. Immediately, the room filled in around me and my perception spread outward. In the cell next to me, a tightly bundled blob of energy paced restlessly. The other side was empty. A pair of guards passed in front of me heading to the right, away from the check-in. I could still sense Seven standing guard outside of Dameron's cell, a few doors down the hall. Inside, the ball of life that lay inert was beginning to stir. _He's going to have one hell of a headache,_ I thought.

Whatever mess I'd gotten myself into, I didn't regret what I'd done. I just wished that I could have done more to help the man. Of course, I couldn't even help myself. The energy I'd stolen from Kylo Ren and General Hux had long since faded, leaving a bone-deep weariness in behind it. Without the courage the energy theft had seemed to grant me, I couldn't help but be baffled by my choices. All of them.

A nagging sense of shame crept in from the outside, perhaps spurred by my fatigue. Irritated, I tried to brush it away again as I had earlier. What was the problem? There was nothing to be ashamed of. Sex was sex. _Except when you're fucking monsters,_ an unwelcome voice teased, one that I couldn't seem to quiet. I remembered the smell of blood on Kylo Ren, and smoke, and the way it had simultaneously disgusted and aroused me. How many of the burning bodies on that pile had been his direct contribution? Indirectly, Hux himself was responsible for all of them. _You debased yourself with cold-blooded fiends and you enjoyed it._ I couldn't argue with that voice, even as it made my insides clench with the weight of my regret.

Of everyone I'd met, the commanders were both the most shameless and the most despicable. They had excelled in an unforgiving world. They were also the ones I'd enjoyed fucking the most, possibly _because_ I fundamentally felt no accountability for their well-being. That was not the case for everyone. I had, and then immediately dismissed the notion to contact Phasma. I knew she was on the ship, but I also knew that she would not betray her duty, even for me.

Despite everything, I still felt for her. She was living proof of someone that could exist in a state of harmonious contradiction. She thrived in the structured rigidity of the militaristic regime, had taken part in and directed the execution of wartime atrocities; yet she'd shown me and other slaves extraordinary kindness and compassion. She'd willingly ordered the execution of unarmed sentients; yet still she was not unnecessarily cruel. And she had such pride for her soldiers who, in her mind, fulfilled a necessary role in keeping order in the galaxy. And her shining star, FN-2187, whose heart was not in his duty despite his conditioning… she had no idea.

When I'd spoken with him, he'd seemed too good, too pure for this life. He'd avoided participating in the slaughter of unarmed miners, but I doubted he would be able to maintain such disobedience. I thought I remembered him saying something that implied he would be part of the deployment to the surface of Jakku. I didn't want to think about him killing those villagers. Actually, I didn't know why I was suddenly thinking of him at all. He'd just popped into my head, seemingly out of nowhere.

A guard was coming down the hall, the same as any other that had passed me by over the last thirty minutes or so. Except this one radiated ripples of paranoia and anxiety. I stood up and moved toward my door, observing with my Force perception as they passed by my cell. I knew then why I'd been thinking of FN-2187; it was him that approached now, not a regular guard. What was he doing here, and why did his emotions read so turbulent? As I observed, he paused in front of Seven, and Poe Dameron's cell. And then he entered the cell.

My heart started pounding. Was he going to execute the pilot? Apparently not, for, to my bewilderment, the ball of light that was FN-2187 and the ball of light that was Poe Dameron both left together. Seven, upon finding himself in front of an empty cell, began to walk off in the opposite direction. Something told me that FN-2187 wasn't there to escort Dameron to his death. His emotional read was too… scared. As if he were doing something he was definitely not supposed to.

I sensed them move down the hall before my cell and then turn down a side corridor together. And then they passed beyond my ability to feel them. I tried to extend my Darksight, but they were gone.

My eyes were wide as I paced from the door to the bench and back again, trying to piece it together. It was possible that FN-2187 was taking Poe somewhere else, perhaps to a more secure cell, but I doubted it. Maybe, I thought, daring to dream, just maybe FN-2187 was taking Poe away. Maybe he was doing what I had only dreamt of doing: _escaping._

 _It can't be…_ I couldn't believe it; it was too good to be true.

Nothing happened for a long while, however, and my hopes began to fade. Of course, it was ridiculous. They wouldn't have gotten far anyway. My own hopes and desires were clouding my judgement. FN-2187 was likely far more aware than I of the consequences, and he probably valued his life too much to think of defecting. I sighed and moved toward the bench to sit down again.

Just then, I heard a static crackle coming from my comms, which were laying on the floor by the bench still attached to the helmet.

"- _vailable fire teams to hangar bay 2 immediately—ccrkk"_

I scrambled over on my hands and knees, grabbed the helmet and held it to my ear, too impatient to detach the visor.

" _Code red, all available fire teams immediately report to hangar bay 2. Unsanctioned departure."_

I still had access to the basic troop channels. Kylo Ren hadn't thought enough about my confinement to lock me out. My fantasy didn't seem so foolish anymore, for something told me that the strange thing is witnessed and this happening in such quick succession was no coincidence.

I couldn't breathe for a moment. I pulled the helmet on fully and messed around with the controls for my HUD to see if I could hear anything more on another channel, perhaps a frequency used by techs or a control room.

 _"-is going on?!"_ A male voice, sharp and accented, told me this was likely an officer.

" _Sir, someone's commandeered a TIE and is attempting to depart with the fuel line still attached-"_

 _"What?!"_ I winced at the sudden increase in volume and adjusted it accordingly, my heart pounding. _"Divert the power, we might be able to overload-"_

 _"They're firing!"_

Just then, there was a horrified scream and the sound of an explosion, which cut to static.

 _"I didn't get that, Flight Control."_ Silence, but for the crackle of dead air. _"Forward Flight Control, do you copy?"_

More static. Then the channel went silent as, I assumed, the officer had switched to another frequency outside of my range of access. Anxiously, I scanned the channels available to me. It was as though every person on the ship were speaking at once.

"- _out two other TIEs-"_

 _"-stuck on the damn cables-"_

 _"-end reinforcements! Heavy troopers!"_

 _"They're loose! I repeat, they have left the hangar!"_

I let out a quiet cheer, punching the air before resuming my feverish search. All of the lower channels were full of chatter about damage assessment or casualties or more confusion and chaos.

 _"-disabled the mid-canons. Charging ventral canons."_

"C'mon," I said aloud through clenched teeth. "Come on, guys…"

 _"They're hit! They're going down!"_

Desperately, I went through the entirety of the accessible channels a fourth and fifth time, but all I overheard were communications between techs and hangar personnel chattering about damage control. There was no confirmation that they'd been destroyed. If they were falling toward the planet, there was still a chance that they could survive if they ejected before it crashed.

And then, _"-deploy dropship to the crash site. Coordinates 23.5- 34.7-17.3."_

And nothing else.

I imagined it was possible if improbable that they could survive, and I almost gave in to the urge to communicate with someone through the comms and find out what was happening, but ultimately I decided not to. I didn't want to somehow give myself away and risk losing this one link to everything on the other side of my cell door.

I resumed pacing, my mind working to fill in the gaps of what I knew. They'd gotten so far, much further than I thought possible. I couldn't help but feel a small pang of jealousy. I wished I'd acted on my conscience. I'd had every opportunity to get Dameron out of his cell before I'd been caught. Of course, it was possible that FN-2187's military training had aided in their escape, and in his place, I might have been shot first. And then an uncomfortable realization slammed me.

I'd had direct contact with both of the men involved prior to this incident, most notably with the escaped prisoner. If this thought had occurred to me, there was no doubt that it would occur to others. I had to consider that Hux and Kylo Ren might think I'd had some part in this somehow. If it came to that, I would have to try to reason with them. I hadn't deliberately done anything, but I couldn't deny that I hadn't acted according to the way a loyal, unquestioning member of the Order would have. The General had spoken with unblinking severity of treason and deliberate obstruction and the other man was the reason I found myself trapped in this cell. _Trapped._

Panic began to rise, tightening the muscles in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. There was no escape, and there would be no liberation for me. Maybe I could do what they did, take advantage of the chaos they'd left in their wake, I thought desperately. I tried again to use my Force power to physically affect the door, but all I managed was to give myself the beginnings of a headache with my efforts. Surely I could convince them that I meant no harm, that nothing I'd done had caused any of this to happen. Something told me, however, that they would be less willing to listen to me now. Whether or not I'd intended for this to happen, my actions cast me in a guilty light.

I became aware of a slowly increasing sound and feeling in the back of my head. An angry buzzing and a tightness in my chest that I now knew was the Force sensory feedback through my fundamental connection with my Master.

I shrank back against the wall farthest from the door, crouching atop the bench as though I could reduce my tall form to something less conspicuous, but there was no chance of concealment in that cell. He was going to kill me. Uncertainly, my hand rested atop my vibro stiletto. The smaller one was still concealed under my sleeve. Both were fully charged, though they would be no match against a lightsaber. An alarming thought occurred to me, that perhaps it would be better for me to end my own life rather than face whatever was coming for me now.

There was no time. I heard the security panel on the other side buzz. The door slid open.

The very specter of death stood there now. Kylo Ren's hood was up, casting his black and chrome mask into further darkness. There was no sign of the man with whom I'd become so familiar, only the faceless monster possessing of unfathomable power. So close, the feedback was deafening, though I could not sense his emotional state with any clarity.

"Sir, please let me explain," I started, desperately trying to come up with something to say, anything that might stall him or give him pause, but I couldn't find the words.

He moved into the cell and gripped my arm in one hand, pulling me roughly to my feet. Without thinking, I jerked back against him, an instinctual need to flee overriding my common sense. He yanked my arm then with his full strength, and I stumbled toward him, too frightened to fight him any further. He was too strong, and his reach was too long. I knew, too, that his physical strength was only a small fraction of what made him so dangerous.

He half dragged me out into the corridor. In the hallway, he wasted no time before ripping away the vibrostiletto strapped to my belt. Without missing a beat, he gripped my forearm the arm which wore the shiv, and removed the tiny weapon. He handed these effects to the mute and unfamiliar stormtrooper standing beside him, and without further delay, pulled me through the door into the interrogation room.

"Don't, please," I begging, thinking of the agony I'd relived listening to his inquisition on the pilot's mind. My pleas fell on deaf ears. "You don't have to do this. I will tell you anything."

" **The time for that has passed. I can no longer trust you.** " He'd spoken, finally. He pushed me toward the harness and I stumbled backwards, unwilling to turn my back to him, weakly trying to twist my arm out of his grip and I looked pleadingly into his impassive face.

"I haven't done anything, I swear to you."

" ** _Enough_.** "

I fell silent. Without a further word, he released my arm, conjuring a brief flare of hope that he might listen and stop what he was doing. Instead, he rested his hand lightly on my neck, wrapping his thumb and long fingers around it. I froze but for my involuntary trembling. I could feel how tense his hand was through the glove, but he didn't squeeze. He was not in the throes of rage nor was he impassioned with anger. This was far more deliberate, and far, far more dangerous.

" **Get in the harness.** "

Shaking, I somehow managed to make myself move backwards until I felt the hard surface of the interrogation harness against my back. My teeth chattered as he gestured, and the wrist and ankle restraints closed at his bidding. My fingertips felt cold.

" **Tell me about the pilot.** " He moved slowly forward.

"Yes, okay, the pilot," I answered quickly, trying to concentrate with his looming form so near to me. It wasn't easy. "His name is Poe Dameron. His mother was a pilot and his father was-"

" **This is unimportant,** " he interrupted impatiently. " **Tell me about the map. Did he say anything to you?** "

"No."

" **You're lying.** " These words were spoken with unquestionable surety and I desperately shook my head, panicking anew.

"No! I'm not! He wouldn't speak of it. Please believe me."

And then, with a claw-like gesture, his aura grew like a massive storm swell and converged upon me in waves. Without entirely meaning to, my own defenses went up to fend off the Force needles which now searched for some weakness, some point of entry. All the while, my upper body felt as though it were being pulled forward with such strength that the restraints bit into my arms despite my armor.

" **Did you know that he would escape?** " Through my blinding agony, I could hear his voice, soothing and calm. Utterly unphased by what he was doing to me now.

" _No!"_ I shouted, but it turned into a choked cry when the sensations intensified. It felt as though an electric current coursed through me, flexing every muscle in my body from my shoulders to my scalp, even ones I had no voluntary control over. They remained suspended in that state without relief until I thought they would tear me apart. My neck shook with the effort to fight him, and my teeth clenched so hard that I thought they might shatter. My barriers held, but something told me he was yet holding back.

It was our first meeting all over again, but now it was so much worse, so much more intense. I struggled for breath as the great pressure at once compressed me and seemed to be attempting to suck my brain matter through the pores in my face. I was aware that a strained noise was coming from me, not that I had any ability to stop it. The pressure built until my eyes rolled back in my head. Sharp fingers of energy pressed against my scalp and face, meeting resistance as my own Force barriers struggled to hold strong, and then with a sensation that felt like it should be accompanied by a muted 'pop,' it was breached. Cold pins and needles sank deep into my brain, and my immediate surroundings faded mercifully along with the pain.

 _'Show me the pilot,'_ he spoke, almost kindly, as though I were a frightened animal. His voice echoed inside of my head but there was no way to tell whether he'd spoken the words aloud or directly to my thoughts, for he was so intimately entangled with my mind at this point it was as though we both occupied one skull.

I was opening the cuffs on the harness, close enough to smell the man's sweat and hear the rattle of his breath. I watched him warily, ready to fight him off if necessary, but I didn't think it would be. Like a dream, I helped him into his jacket, and as he'd said, he didn't try anything. He didn't resist as I closed the cuffs again.

" **That was unwise,** " the man in black said to me in the present. " **Unjustifiable, no matter the outcome.** "

I had a moment to breathe.

"I was armed. The guards were-"

" **And if he'd attempted to escape, you would have, what, killed him? And in doing so, destroy all knowledge he contained regarding the map fragment?** "

"He was in no state to fight!"

" **Clearly he was well enough to escape.** "

Ultimately, I knew this to be true, and I had neither the will nor the energy to argue with this. He didn't give me an opportunity, because the next moment, I felt him drawing me forward again. I grunted as I tried to resist, and then he plunged into my mind once more without warning, blowing my barriers aside like cobweb.

 _'Show me the rest of the interrogation.'_

I resisted him this time, though it was more of an automatic impulse than anything else. I didn't want him to see that I'd given Dameron water. I didn't want him to see anything else that had transpired, so afraid was I of his retribution. I tried to derail him, to compel my thoughts to remain focused only on what I could let him see, something which would divert his objective.

I was in the shower, out of my mind with the overwhelming pleasure I felt at that moment. The two men to my front and back pushed their bodies against and into me. We'd become something greater than our individual selves as our sensory ecstasy was multiplied threefold.

 _'This will not work, Riala,'_ he warned. ' _I will take what I need from you whether or not you cooperate. Just know that any additional resistance only serves to damn you further.'_

But it was too late, too delicious, and I found myself drawn further down until the steam filled my nostrils, the slick skin sliding around me, hot and wet, pressing in on me from all sides. A finger was between my legs, massaging my clitoris, and the pressure was building. I had to taste them more deeply than I could with my tongue. They were so full of vigor, and it flowed between us easily. Our bodies and our every sensory experience was intertwined, moving along the paths of our very life essence as it swirled and mingled between us as though physical barriers did not exist. It was almost too easy to keep some of it for myself. They wouldn't know…

I panicked, remembering my invader, and then I slipped and lost control entirely.

I was in the holding cell again. But I was looking at the man in the harness with the smoldering eyes.

" _This buddy-buddy thing you're doing? It won't work."_ Of course it wouldn't, and I was an idiot for thinking that I was so clever. Of course he would see right through my attempts. I didn't want to hurt him, not yet … the pain would have to come later, but I couldn't think about that now. He didn't trust me, but neither did he want me to leave him.

But the more I discovered about him, and the more he revealed about himself, his tongue loosened by the serum, the harder it became to think of actually initiating the next step in the process. And then, my thoughts skipped forward to the earth-shattering revelation.

" _Yavin. Yavin 4."_

My home world. My mother and my father… at least Dameron had known his. I couldn't ruin that for him. I felt a sob rise in my throat, and I couldn't stop it. This wasn't part of my memory, this was happening in the present. A wave of needling pain washed across me and receded and for a moment I could feel the cuffs around my wrists again, as though they were a thing I could have forgotten.

" **You share a home world. Perhaps that was motivation enough to aid an escape.** "

"I didn't help them," I moaned. "I wanted him to stop fighting you. I just wanted him to stay uncorrupted…"

" **Who? The pilot?** "

Without meaning to, I pictured FN-2187 in my mind, as he had appeared to me in the warm, dim room with the plants.

" **What _about_ 2187?** "

I panicked, feeling my mind go, of its own accord further into that memory in the warm belly of the ship. Kylo Ren's firm guidance eased the recollection.

 _"Can I kiss you?"_ The handsome young man asked, watching me for my response as hyperspace streaked by through the low windows. Our small fingers still touched slightly. He was so hopeful, and so troubled by what he'd seen, and I wanted to do what I could to comfort him. And maybe, in the process, I could have a glimpse of what it meant to be innocent.

 _No_ , I thought, pleading. _This is not your concern; this has nothing to do with you._

" **In fact this has everything to do with me. What did you say to him?** "

I pushed and I resisted, struggling against the grip on my memories, but every attempt I made to raise my barriers was met with further tightening until I felt that I could hardly think at all. I thought my skull would shatter. In the harness of the interrogation room, Kylo Ren stood so close that I could smell the old smoke on his robes, the dried sweat, the subtle hint of old blood. If it weren't for the brutal power he exerted over me now, the agony of a thousand needles stabbing the soft tissue under my skull, his bearing might almost seem gentle as he violated me mentally. His aura battered against the shredded remnants of mine and the pressure grew.

" **Show me.** "

The gentle lips were on mine, and for a moment, I forgot everything except for that memory, and I willingly took refuge in it. FN-2187 had disarmed me, made me forget my scrabbling ambitions and my malice. For a shining moment, I thought I might be someone worthy of such attentions, but it was short-lived. I couldn't quiet the disturbing thoughts of that goodness becoming twisted, corrupted.

 _"You're a good man… don't let them take that from you,"_ I said. And then I left him.

Slowly, the memories faded as Kylo Ren pulled himself out of my mind, leaving an empty ache where before he'd made me feel overfull. I became aware of my own ragged breathing and remnants of my choked sobs. I hadn't even been aware that I was crying. There was a rawness in my throat that gave sign to my involuntary vocalizations, and numbly I wondered if I'd sounded like Dameron in the midst of his torture, if the stormtrooper guard outside the door was at all moved. My face was wet as tears seeped from my eyes, though I couldn't move my hands to wipe away the moisture. Everything hurt, and a pounding headache throbbed between my temples.

He had taken _everything_. He'd taken from me the one possession I had sought to protect. Now nothing felt safe, not even my own thoughts. I sagged against the harness, shudderingly weakly with aftershocks of the strain. I felt hollow, as though my insides had been turned inside out, and were now vulnerable and exposed to the cruel air. There had been no chance to redirect his invasion, and my first attempt to do so had been disastrous, as I'd inadvertently shown him the one thing I'd wanted to hide. Had he comprehended what he had witnessed? I couldn't be sure, everything had happened so fast.

All of my ambitions, all of my pride in my abilities now stood to mock me as monuments to my failure.

I provided no resistance now, not even a cursory struggle, as he opened the cuffs. Without the support of the harness, I almost collapsed, but two strong arms caught me and held me stable. After what he'd done to me, this show of kindness was unbearable. I hated him for it, for making me feel so powerless, so weak. As soon as I stood upon my own two feet, I shrugged him off of me, more to break contact with him than to get away.

Without a further word, he placed a hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the door. Whatever he was feeling, he kept withheld from me. We passed the same guard who held my weapons as he brought me to the same cell as before. The door opened and I entered. I sat upon the bench with my knees to my chest and held them close, as though they could protect me. Kylo Ren stood silently in the open doorway.

" **I can see that you had no deliberate part in the escape,** " he said quietly. " **Yet you are not innocent of wrongdoing.** "

I merely looked at him. Nothing he said mattered to me right now, not his judgment nor the sense of betrayal I detected in his words. I hated him with every fiber of my being, and I hated myself for letting him take what he wanted, for not doing more to fight him. He stepped further into the small room, taking up far too much space.

" **Your thoughts… your feelings… I had suspected, but I couldn't be sure…** "

"Now you know," I croaked, my eyes tightening into a weary glare, "how much I despise you. Every time you touch me, I hate myself."

I felt the briefest hint of anger, and offense, but it was gone, hidden away again. " **I thought you might be something to me. That we could be something together. Instead, you have disappointed me.** "

"Fuck you and your disappointment," I growled.

I was almost not surprised when he took his lightsaber hilt in hand and activated it with a searing thrum, calling to mind the way his proximity sounded in my head. He held the crackling flame-like length of it down at an angle and I knew that he was not doing this as a show of temper or in an attempt to intimidate. Arcs of unstable energy flared and red light was thrown from the saber's blade, casting unsteady reflections in the dull metal of the cell's walls and floor and in the shining silver ridges around the eyes of his helmet. It drenched the black fabric of his clothing like blood.

For a long moment, the only sound was the static sound of the blade's erratic power flow. I didn't move, nor did I cower further. I merely looked into the glowing column of red, almost mesmerized by the sight of it, wondering how it would feel to have my flesh simultaneously pierced and cauterized by it.

I would have rathered die than answer to him any further, and I didn't bother concealing these thoughts from him. There was no point in concealing anything ever again. Still he didn't move.

"Do it," I heard myself say, my voice hoarse. He didn't respond. Shaking, I didn't break from his gaze and I felt his eyes on me.

Suddenly, the blade retracted, swallowed back into the hilt. His hands gripped the handle still, so tightly that I could imagine his knuckles were white.

" **Supreme leader Snoke will decide your fate,** " he said finally, his voice strangely quiet. I could almost hear his real voice beneath the monstrous distortion, could almost picture his real face beneath the skull mask. I wondered if his plain features showed his pain where none could see it. A furious ball of heat expanded inside of me.

"Coward!" I screamed at him, my voice breaking as the rage burst like an explosion. I lashed out with my wrath and struck him, trying to goad him into attacking, but apart from a slight flinch, he was unaffected. "At least give me my weapons back so I can do it myself!"

Anger and sadness consumed me, and I couldn't tell whether it originated with me or with him. And then he turned and stepped out. I didn't jump up to stop him from closing the door this time. Instead, I tucked my head behind my arms, folded on top of my knees until I was locked in. I was alone once more.

Without someone to maintain the veneer of bravado for, I fell apart. I cried until my tears ran dry, and then I continued, my chest heaving with dry sobs. There was nothing else I could do. Kylo Ren had made sure of that.

It was perhaps an hour before I felt the ship shudder as it entered hyperspace. In a few short hours, we would return to Starkiller Base where death and judgement awaited me.

* * *

Author's Note: Just so you know, I really struggled with timing. The movie itself is never very specific about how much time has passed, but I assure you, I watched this part frame by frame so many times, studied the leaked script, even used the novelization to give me an idea of the sequence of events. If anything, I didn't allow enough time to pass. But if you're confused, Kylo Ren approached her and Force probed her before Finn escaped jakku with Rey. Riala has no idea at this point that Finn survived. The ship jumps to hyperspace to return to base after the Millenium Falcon leaves the surface of Jakku.

This chapter was pretty dark, I know. I wrote it many times, trying to find the right way for things to play out, but this was the only thing that felt believable, considering just how far she pushed things this time. If you notice any blaring inconsistencies, or continuity errors, do let me know. I'm not above fixing stuff after posting ;)

As always, thank you so much for reading.


	39. The Garbage Will Do

Author's Note: It's been a crazy month for me! I didn't once stop thinking about the next part of Riala's story, though. Sorry for keeping you waiting. I could say so much more, but I'll just let you get to it :)

* * *

I stared hollow-eyed at the white pill lights framing the dark grey blast door of my cell. Dim light filtered down through black metal grates in the ceiling and in strips along the top of the walls. It smelled faintly of cleaning chemicals and old sweat. This ship had only been in commission for perhaps a decade, but I could imagine that the detention block had seen its fair share of use. I could see scuff marks near the base of the door and what looked uncomfortably like claw marks on the wall beside it, though it appeared that someone had tried to buff them out.

They were taking no risks with me. It wasn't long after the Finalizer had entered hyperspace that I sensed two people approaching with purpose. They immediately assumed positions standing outside of my cell. Guards, two of them, female from what I'd heard of their sporadic, low conversation on the other side of the door. My comms had been disabled remotely; someone must have caught on that I'd still had access to them before, when I'd overheard the progress and ultimate defeat of the great escape.

I wondered what part, if any, Hux had played in my incarceration. I remembered that strange look he'd given me in the corridor while the interrogation was underway, when in a moment of weakness, I'd allowed my horror over the proceedings to slip into my expression. I figured that he was intelligent and calculating enough to suspect a weakening of my loyalties, even then. Ultimately, my connection with Hux had been purely physical. I gave something to him, and I got something too. I had not sensed anything like the emotional attachment I suspected in Kylo Ren. Had he even felt any outrage on my behalf after Kylo Ren interrogated me and threw me in here? Or had he simply accepted it and moved on? I wouldn't have been offended if he had. I couldn't bring myself to care about him or his opinion of me, not anymore.

I felt dead inside, as though more had been taken from me than my privacy, as though he'd taken my ability to feel as well. How foolish I'd been, how driven by emotion and short-sighted desires.

I watched the door as though I could actually see the guards on the other side of it instead of just sense them. I wondered what it would take to get one of them to shoot me and save me from Snoke's presence. I would rather face the business end of a blaster than look at those milky, glinting eyes of his again. How Kylo Ren did so on a regular basis without disgust and horror escaped me.

A spike of intense emotion shredded the heavy blanket of apathy as I thought of him. It was not a simple, straightforward feeling. Just like everything between us, it was messy and full of contradictions. How had he managed to get under my skin enough for me to let my guard down? Why did I think myself so safe? Somehow, even while being constantly confronted by his power and what he was capable of, I had underestimated him. Until today, I had thought myself at least somewhat in control of the situation. It seemed fully possible to remain so close to him and benefit without repercussions, as long as I was careful and aware of the danger. Looking back, I couldn't even believe that I'd made it this far. At the moment it felt like I would go no further, that whatever lay ahead of me down on the base was my terminus.

Absently, I stroked my fingers through my hair, longing for the minor comfort the sensation gave me, and in the tilting of my head, I felt the bruise on my neck ache, reminding me of its presence. My hand slid along my skin to touch it and my mind flashed to the moment he'd given it to me and the carnal abandon that had followed. But instead of enjoying the thought of his mouth on me, I only felt a sick tightening in the pit of my stomach. The brief joy of our shared ecstasy would now be forever tainted by the harsh reality, that joy was not sustainable.

He'd left me feeling hollow, scraped raw on the inside. If I hadn't resisted him, the Force probing might have been easier on me, the pain less intense. Of course, like a stubborn fool, I'd fought against him, tried to keep him out of my head, tried to keep him from taking from me the one thing I possessed: my innermost thoughts and fears

He did anyway, in the end. He was too powerful. Prior instances did _not_ compare. The time where visceral sexual memories were able to sidetrack him was long past. Our intimacy had ultimately set my downfall in motion. And now… this time it felt as though he'd corrupted some secret, sacred part of myself with his presence. I felt the anger begin to well up like blood from a wound.

I couldn't let him win. My short time as his student had been a constant battle between my desire for knowledge and power and my fear of overreaching. That delicate balance was thrown the moment I saw the Pressyllian asteroid mine and the true face of the First Order. It looked like misery and death. Like blood spray on pristine white armor. It looked like Kylo Ren.

I resumed my pacing, my eyes locked on the door as I passed it each time, now filled with nervous energy. I was captive in a cell with two guards in the detention block aboard the flagship of the First Order, a star destroyer which was currently in hyperspace transit with a full complement of personnel on board. Upon hyperspace exit, I would shortly find myself similarly held captive on Starkiller, subject to whatever justice was given to me. Out of the mouth of the beast and into its belly.

I needed to escape my cell before we exited hyperspace. After what had happened with a soldier going traitor and freeing a prisoner, I would not be surprised if the ship was on some sort of lockdown. If I had known what would happen, I would have made my escape long before this. I needed to find some place where I could hole up on the ship until I made my escape to... where?

It was madness… but somewhere on the arctic tundra blanketing the surface of Starkiller Base and the hollow, corrupted shell of what was once called Ilum by those sensitive to the Force, there was a cave. As many times as I'd dreamed of it, it was almost as if I'd actually been there myself. It seemed mad, to follow the immaterial promise of a dream, but I couldn't deny the implications of it.

I'd had the same dream for weeks now, with minor variation, and I had little doubt that the Force was somehow speaking to me through it.

I thought to the two guards standing in the corridor next to my cell door. They stood in the way of my goal, as obscure as it might be. Left with little else at my disposal, I would need to push myself, and my abilities, further than I had ever done.

When I found a source of emotional energy inside of myself, as with my interrogation process, or otherwise, I could infuse another person with it; make them feel safe, content, happy. Lustful. I managed to do this by dipping into my own thoughts and memories, and the emotions tied to them. They were poignant because, while details might become lost to time, the emotion tied to the memories didn't. Sometimes I'd had to dig deep to find security and love strong enough to make another feel it.

Luckily for me, I didn't have to search far to find my anger.

I approached the door, with one thing on my mind that might provoke the necessary response.

"Hey, can either of you pilot?" My question was spoken through the door loudly enough for them to hear. It didn't matter what I said, I simply wanted to get their attention. The muffled conversation stopped. "If you get me out of here, I'll pay you. I'm rich you know."

There was a bang on the other side.

"Shut up in there," one of them said in a gruff voice. The one on the left. I felt a minor twist of irritation in her heart. A seed was planted.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about freedom. Don't you want to piss for once without permission?"

A word was spoken, though I could not hear it, I could hear the terse tone in which it had been said. I gathered from context that the other guard was telling her to ignore me, or something similar. I leaned in until my cheek touched the cold, black metal surface of the door. I rested one palm on the door beside my face, focusing on the one that had responded to my bait. With all of my will, I poured my anger through, slowly contaminating her energy signature with it. I felt a change in her emotional read almost immediately.

"If you let me out of here, I'll help you escape too," I said. I had no real intent or expectation to persuade her.

I'd struck a nerve. The guard's anger flared red hot on the other side of the door and the security panel made a faint buzz as it was activated. I didn't have enough time to get out of the way before the doors whizzed open and I was rammed square in the center of my chest with an iron elbow, stealing my breath with the impact to my solar plexus. Gasping, I tripped backwards over my own feet and fell. The other guard, shorter and stockier, stepped into the doorway gesturing frantically.

"What are you _doing_ , Red? Have you lost your mind?" she demanded. The taller of the two looked back over her shoulder sharply.

"Help or stay out of it," Red, barked. The other fell silent and her impassive white helmet glanced either way down the hall before she made the decision to step fully into the cell. The door closed behind her and then they were both looking at me. I was unarmed and outnumbered. Though I'd intended for this to happen, I felt dread settle, sharp and heavy, in my chest. The first one turned back toward me, jabbing a finger aggressively. She was feeling restless, combative. "Not so brave now?"

"Red," the other guard warned. "I recognize her. She's Kylo Ren's apprentice."

"I don't care _who_ she is," she snapped, the face of her helmet never leaving me. She jabbed an aggressive finger in my direction. "I'm no traitor. _You're_ the one in a cell, scumbag. You are no one."

I narrowed my eyes, feeding her anger with a steady stream of Force energy, watching her energy signature grow hotter, more erratic.

The taller one's chest heaved beneath her armor, and I could almost feel the bitter taste of anger in the back of my throat, though I could no longer tell who it belonged to.

"You're wrong," I said grimly, my voice trembling with emotion that threatened to spill over. " _You_ are no one. You don't have a name, you don't have a family, you don't have a life outside of that armor. You're nothing but faceless battle fodder and that's all you'll ever be until you die."

She moved forward quickly, her fist raised to strike, I instantly drew back, but then a glove on her shoulder stopped her. Red rounded on the other guard then, and shoved her. I watched, stunned as the other rocked back and then straightened, squaring her shoulders.

"What are you _doing_? She's a prisoner."

"You think I'm going to just stand here and let her insult everything we stand for?" Red jabbed the other in the chest with her fingers, and the other swatted her hand away. "I'm no traitor."

"You're acting like a child!"

I watched in disbelief as they began to turn on one another. Like a pestilence, the anger was beginning to spread to the other guard with no additional help from me. I readied myself to siphon their energy before this became more dangerous for me. Perhaps I could even attempt to knock them both unconscious as I'd theorized was possible. Of course, I'd never before attempted such a feat under such circumstances. I had no way of knowing if it would work, but I had to try.

"You're out of line, soldier," the shorter one warned. Red stepped up to her combatively, far within the other woman's personal space. The other didn't waver, she only squared her shoulders.

"You're not my commander. You can't do shit."

And then the other guard shoved her. Red stumbled, then hit her back. I backed away slowly until I hit the bench on the wall behind me, fully appreciating now just how tiny the cell was. A quick glance to the door behind the stormtroopers revealed that there was no path to freedom with them blocking my way as they were.

The taller woman pushed back, and almost too suddenly, the pair erupted into a full-on brawl, and my thoughts to render them unconscious faltered, my own anger all but forgotten.

The pair grappled and growled, no longer interested in words, it seemed. The shorter one, using her body like a battering ram, slammed the taller one into the wall, who rounded on her and did the same, before they both fell on the floor in a clatter, their rage only growing more intense like a fire burning out of control inside of them.

There they wrestled, punching and clawing and snarling like beasts, and I could only watch in abject horror as the chain reaction I'd started continued to spiral further out of control. The shorter one, underneath now, ripped off her assailant's helmet, revealing a young woman with blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail away from a pale face which was red and twisted with rage. As soon as her helmet came off, the armored fist of the other soldier made contact, snapping the woman's bare face to the side and splitting her lip in a spray of blood.

A gloved hand lighted on the holstered blaster before another hand gripped the wrist and pulled it off, and then they flipped again placing the bare-faced blonde on the bottom.

I was deafened by the blast of a discharged weapon. My hands flew to the sides of my head too late. The smell of singed plastisteel and charred flesh filled the air and my ears rang.

At first I couldn't tell who had shot whom, as they both lay still, one on top of the other. I didn't breathe. But then stockier soldier on top stirred. But it was the one beneath her that had moved. She shoved the limp body aside and off of her with the blaster still in hand. She slowly climbed to her feet, panting and hunched over, supporting herself with the other hand gripping a knee. She seemed stunned, her flushed face focused on the floor between us. And then she turned to me as though she'd just remembered I was there, blood drooling from her mouth. Her hazel eyes were wide and dilated.

"I… killed her." She gasped, looking from the body on the floor back to me as slowly dawning horror bloomed on her pale, narrow face. "Kida… she never would have…" her voice trailed off.

Slowly, she raised the blaster pistol then and pointed it at me. Her hand was shaking, the barrel wobbling unsteadily. I didn't move.

" _You_. You did this," she said, staggering closer. She stopped and bent over suddenly, wincing and clutching her knee. The blaster pistol dipped only briefly before resuming its original position pointed at me. My eyes were drawn to the black opening at the end of the barrel. My chest ached with fear and guilt, the former far stronger than the latter.

"No…" I uttered, shaking my head, not believing it even as I replayed the events in my head and knew without a doubt that she was right. I saw a shadow pass over her features like the darkening of the skies before a storm. Murder was in her eyes.

I didn't allow any time for finesse. I sank tendrils of power deep into the core of her life force and in a tightening of my will, ripped away as much of it as I could grab and pulled it back into myself.

Her eyes tipped upward. She swayed on her knees and then she crumpled to the floor, an empty suit of armor with a head attached.

The accusation in her eyes and words lingered with me until the rising roar of my blood in my ears drowned them out. I forgot my concern for her and what I'd done. I lost all sense of context.

I was a cup that had been overfilled and was spilling. My head reeled from electrified nerves, from the rushing of heat to every corner of my being. My heart thrummed at a thousand meters per second, my skin vibrated -then a massive, singular shudder passed through me from head to toe. As if tethered but separate from my body, my consciousness drifted outside of myself. I was viewing the cell and what had happened there from a distance like a holovid inside of a monitor.

The ecstasy was far more intense than anything I'd felt before. Almost better, even, than sex. With swimming vision leaving glowing trails behind every source of light, I looked around and I saw my surroundings with new eyes. The minor flaws and features of the durasteel walls now had meaning. The claw marks by the door were a message of fear, written in a language without words. The faint smell of stale sweat read with an undercurrent of desolation and the chemical scent on top of it of inhumanity.

Everything around me and inside of me _vibrated_. There was a low, almost musical hum resonating in my bones. I was suddenly aware of every pore on the surface of my skin.

I blinked the bright haze from my vision, and then I looked down. On the floor lay monuments to the horror of the present, something I would have been happy to forget; the two stormtroopers, equally still. My blissful euphoria bled away and left cold reality in its wake.

I lowered myself beside the blonde named Red, rolled her on her back, and felt for a pulse on her neck. It beat steadily, and I let out a breath I didn't even know that I'd been holding. She was unconscious, not dead. Though in truth, I had no way of knowing what long-term effect such an attack would have on her body and health. Something nagged the back of my mind, but I couldn't address it yet.

She looked to be in her mid-twenties. I wondered if they had been friends. They'd spoken with enough familiarity for it, before... a spike of grief and regret sliced through me. I looked at the blackened hole on the front of the other one's armor, just between the chest and stomach segments. Underneath I caught a glimpse of glistening red. Red had called her Kida.

 _You did this._

The nagging feeling came back, and this time I recognized it. I was uncomfortably reminded of the way Kylo Ren had violated my mind, how felt as though he'd taken something intangible and precious from me against my will. This wasn't the same, I thought. Yet part of me remained unconvinced.

I swallowed hard as all moisture seemed to drain from my mouth. Would she be blamed? Would she face the consequences of my actions?

I had not expected the danger in imbuing this emotion in another. I could now see that anger was toxic and self-perpetuating, for even after I'd cut the link, it had continued to grow and spread out of control, certainly beyond _my_ capacity to control it. I had more practice using it as an actual weapon. As a whip or a projectile, I even had some manner of precision. But this… in my haste, another death was on my conscience. She was a soldier of the Order, but so was Seven, so was Phasma. I couldn't forget the almost animalistic rage in Red, the horror when she realized what she'd done… I shook away my misgivings. I'd started on this path and I would have to continue along it. I would have to see it through or this would have all been for naught. I could not fail, I needed to get out.

I didn't know how much time I had, either until the living guard returned to consciousness (I couldn't even begin to think about the implications if she didn't) or both of their absences were noted. I was too recognizable the way I was dressed, so I looked at the unconscious one a little bit more closely. She was thinner than I was, but she looked to be about my height.

It was a grim task, taking her armor. I left her in her black body glove, and was careful not to cause her any further injury, but I had to move quickly. There were eighteen pieces of armor in total, including the helmet. Eighteen things I needed to remove and then put on myself in the correct orientation, each custom sized to fit her measurements. All the while, I waited for her to suddenly wake, or for someone to walk in on such an indefensible situation. I managed to finish clothing myself in time to assume a guard position as a petty officer walked by who spared no attention to the lone stormtrooper standing at attention.

I waited for a passing patrol to exit in the opposite direction and then I quickly ducked back into the cell. When I emerged, I bore my old helmet as well as the other stormtrooper's, and the other soldier's pistol. According to the designation marker in the corner of her helmet's HUD overlay, the blonde was KD-1310. She's been referred to as Red by the dead woman on the floor, identified as KD-1318 by my helmet's HUD, a brunette with short, wavy hair. Red had called her Kida.

Calmly, I walked across the hall and down another corridor, avoiding witnesses and keeping my eyes open for a trash chute. When I found one, the hatch's security mechanism was deactivated by whatever security hardware existed within my stolen armor's electronic components, I deposited the helmets and one of the blaster pistols inside. I wanted to delay discovery of my escape for as long as possible, at least until I knew what I was going to do next.

Painfully aware that every wasted minute brought me closer to being caught, I dodged patrols and passing personnel as I searched desperately for a place that I wouldn't be found. Where on this ship could I hide for the remaining duration of the flight? And assuming that were possible, how would I get to base? Without knowing where else to go, I headed toward the lifts, thinking that one of the main hangars was my best bet for escape. I might get away with it if I acted calm.

A female voice crackled over the audio feed in my helmet, startling me.

" _KD-1310, why aren't you at your post?"_

I didn't answer.

" _Thirteen-ten, respond now,"_ this time, the voice sounded distinctly apprehensive. She knew.

My time was up. I would be found out quickly after they broadcast a ship wide alert warning of the impostor wearing KD-1310's armor. Another incident for the records.

I dodged down a narrow passage when I sensed the approach of three more personnel. Another garbage chute was on the wall opposite me. And that was when I had a really stupid, potentially suicidal idea.

The garbage chutes had to go somewhere. Where the garbage was kept on this ship, there was bound to be human access to it, I reasoned, for maintenance reasons. Human access meant a change of uniform, and perhaps a way off this ship. I was not at ease with what I'd had to do to get my current armor, but I couldn't deny that it had worked. I would not make the same mistake again of using anger in such a way, and of trying to manipulate two people at once. At least not until I had a better grasp of my abilities. It was a bad plan, but it was a plan, and if I was lucky, it would not even occur to them to check the garbage. After all, who, in their right mind, would think to throw themselves away in the first place?

With one more hesitant glance to ensure that there would be no witnesses to my terrible idea, I opened the chute and jumped in feet first.

There was a reason why, even on the detention block, there were accessible garbage chutes, conceivably large enough for an adult human to fit into. That reason was that even if a prisoner somehow managed to escape their cell and get past the security locks on the garbage chute without being noticed, it was assumed that no one would be stupid enough to thrown themselves into one. Barring that, I imagined that their potential death would only serve to free up valuable First Order resources.

This was what went through my mind as I found myself immediately tumbling wildly end over end, a helpless subject to gravity and the faint suction that was meant to aid the descent of trash. My feet found no purchase against the smooth walls of the shaft, though I was able, by virtue of positioning, to right myself as I hurtled.

I was thrown around curves and bends and vertical drops that all became a blur. I had the presence of mind, at least, to hold my arms close to my body, but then that was the only thing I could actually hold onto. At some point along the way, I was struck heavily on the helmet by something I did not see in the darkness, some heavy falling discarded object which tumbled past me and then disappeared. My HUD overlay flickered once, the information on it garbled.

I was thrown around a bottom curve. Instead of continuing forward as my momentum was leading me, an opening appeared beneath me and I was dropped through a short, steep tube and then into sudden emptiness.

For a terrifying moment I thought I'd been spaced.

And then my body, still subject to gravity, crashed into a mountain of garbage. My helmet's electronic components were already damaged by whatever it was that hit me in the chute, and upon impact the HUD overlay flickered and went out completely. I stared dazedly at the ceiling many meters above through the limited view I had through the helmet's eyes while I waited for the world to stop spinning.

I took a deep breath and nearly gagged. The smell was enormous; so potent I could almost taste it with no help from the stormtrooper helmet's filters.

A stinging sensation on the back of my upper left thigh distracted me from the burgeoning nausea developing in my stomach. I sat up carefully and twisted to look. A sharp object, a frayed strand of rigid metal wire, had cut my body suit between the rear plate and the thigh casing and had shallowly sliced the skin beneath. I was bleeding, but not too seriously, and upon closer observation of my surroundings, I was amazed that I'd survived at all; all around me was all manner of industrial and organic waste, including plenty of wicked-looking jagged edges.

Chunks of metal and plastisteel of unidentifiable origins mixed with food waste, packaging, shredded fabric, broken glass, non-mechanical droid parts, and what appeared to be the charred remnants of a pilot seat of some kind. I thought again to the cut in my thigh and how I would need to clean it the first chance I got before it became infected with whatever filth seemed to be coating everything, including the walls.

I was at the bottom of what appeared to be a large, deep pit, like the belly of some enormous metal beast whose last meal had consisted of miscellaneous artifacts of the Finalizer's active operations. High above at the tops of the dingy, filthy walls, was the opening that I'd fallen through. As I watched, I could see its iris-like door periodically retracting to deposit more onto the pile.

Three of the four walls around me were featureless but for the markers which indicated that the top level was three meters high, and completely vertical which made scaling them an impossibility. A thick hatch door set into the fourth wall a few meters behind me, however, confirmed my flimsy assumption that there would be a way out of the garbage chute's destination once I arrived. It was positioned a couple meters from the top layer of garbage, but there was a ladder beneath it with rungs set into the wall.

I was not eager to remain here longer than I needed to. I began clumsily making my way over to it now, carefully planning each step to avoid sinking into the soft patches and getting further injured by hidden hazards. Once or twice, my foot slipped and landed in something warm and wet, and I had to hold my breath and keep my eyes fixed upward to help quell the tide of queasiness that threatened to overcome me. It wasn't sewage but I was certain that something had died down here and was rotting somewhere beneath the layers, and I had no desire to find out what it was.

When I managed to get to the wall, I immediately took hold of a ladder rung, grateful to be holding something stable. Steadily I climbed until I pulled myself up to the door, gripping an anchor bar on one side for balance. I grabbed the hatch release wheel with my free hand, and almost simultaneously, a light above the door that I hadn't noticed before began to flash yellow. There was a small mechanical clank which reverberated through the hatch release. Urgency gripped me. I turned the wheel.

It didn't budge. I used both hands, torqued it with all of the leverage I could manage, but it was stuck fast. Frantic now, I jerked on it, threw my weight into it and almost slipped off of the ledge, tried turning it the other direction, but to no avail. Clearly the maglocks had been activated, and without the appropriate security cylinder on my person, access which I doubted KD-1310 had, I could not unlock it from this side. I didn't know what to do. I had not considered the possibility that access would be sealed, and with the yellow light above me flashing what was clearly a warning, I knew that I was on the wrong side of the hatch.

A sound crackled through the audio feed by my ears, jarring me. A voice, sounding as though it spoke through layers of static and interference.

" _Riala. If you're there, please respond."_ My name. and that voice. Even filtered through the damaged electronic components in my helmet, the voice was unmistakable. Involuntary elation bloomed in my chest and I answered without thinking.

"Phasma… I'm here."

I managed to stop myself before saying more. I couldn't tell her _where_ here was. And the fact that she'd known to contact me on this channel meant that she was fully aware of what had happened. The HUD might not have been working, but the communications equipment was fully functional.

" _It's true, then."_ Her tone was tersely controlled and the disappointment in it made me feel sick. I rested my forehead against the locked door, unable to make myself move.

"I did what I had to," I said after a long moment. "I didn't mean for-"

" _Regardless, someone is now dead because of you,"_ she said coldly, cutting me off mid-plea. Her meaning was clear. We were not friends, not after what I'd done. I couldn't breathe for a moment for the pain in my chest. Some part of me had known this would happen, but it didn't lessen the impact.

"I'm sorry," I uttered uselessly.

" _You will listen carefully,"_ she continued, ignoring me. _"We will be exiting hyperspace in four minutes. If you have not turned yourself in by then, you will be admitting guilt as a traitor."_

"I was given no choice," I said, trying to keep my voice from betraying my emotion. "If I turn myself in, Snoke will sentence me to death. If I don't, I will be executed here. Which would you choose?" There was static pops and snaps as the line fell silent. I thought that perhaps our conversation was over, but she spoke again.

" _I know you're scared,"_ she said, her voice getting quieter and softer. _"But it's not too late. You've made a mistake, don't make another. Please, tell me where you are."_

My next breath was a sob. Nearly retching from the smell, cut and bruised and with nerves jangling from pent up energy and adrenaline, blocked by three walls and a locked door amidst garbage, I was so tempted to do as she asked. To give in to her pleas. The thought of seeing her again, the memory of her arms and her wry smirk, her deep laugh, made the words tremble on my lips. But something stopped them before they could be spoken. A cool, hissing instinct in the back of my head warned me that this was not all it appeared to be. Of course, Phasma was not the only one that wanted to find me.

"This channel isn't secure, is it?" I asked. I thought I might already know the answer.

" _It is secure_ ," she said with a perfectly neutral voice. It was enough to confirm my suspicions, whether she'd meant to do so or not. They were listening. I could imagine my question being overheard, her response being fed to her word for word by whomever directed this conversation. This was unbearable. To be confronted with the one person that my heart hadn't hardened against yet was a truly cold and calculated move. Had it been Hux's idea or Kylo Ren's? Or perhaps even Phasma's?

I couldn't bring myself to respond to her, afraid that I'd revealed too much already. For a long while I just stood there balanced against the locked maintenance door, unable to lift my head, trying to calm my pulse as the remaining minutes ticked by.

And then my mind turned back to my situation at hand. I looked around myself. The locked door and the chute above were the only ways out of this room. But then, that couldn't be right, could it? What did they do with the garbage after putting it here? Surely it didn't remain here indefinitely.

I knew that the Finalizer was basically a small city in itself and, as I could see around me, it generated a lot of waste material through its normal functioning. Unless they just spaced everything, which went against the Order's core concept of efficiency, they had to process it somehow, and I didn't think that even for a ship this size they would waste valuable space on onboard composting or recycling facilities. I'd been sent to work in the waste processing sector baseside a few times in my life, and the sheer volume of trash and scrap that passed through always increased when there was a ship in orbit.

It had to get down to the base somehow, where it could be mechanically or manually sorted, processed, and reused as raw materials if possible. It was, by that assumption, conceivable that I could hitch a ride on whatever freighter or transporter brought the waste to Starkiller. Of course, transport did not guarantee safe passage. A thousand things could go wrong at any point in the process which could result in my death, but with all other options gone, this appeared to be my only chance for escape.

A shudder passing through the metal handle of the door and the walls of the garbage pit around me indicated that the Finalizer had exited hyperspace. My time was up. Somewhere beneath the mountain of garbage, I heard a mechanical clunk, followed by the sound of dripping liquid that soon began to trickle in a steady stream. Massive mechanisms behind the walls and beneath moved and grinded, and the mass of garbage below me began to move and then sink. Solid pieces seethed and sank as the entire room began to empty from underneath. _I can't believe it's come to this,_ I thought. _Thrown out with the garbage._

I knew I might die, but I consoled myself with the fact that at least it would be a death that I'd chosen, not one I was subjected to.

The pit was almost empty now, and I could see the two sides of the floor which stood open like metal teeth yawning into a mouth of darkness. I gripped the rungs at the bottom of the ladder beneath the door as I searched desperately for my courage.

For the second time in as many hours, I gave myself over to fate and let go just as the last of the garbage fell into the gap, and just as a faint buzz of electrical current warned that my window of opportunity, figurative and literal, would soon close.

I dropped into blackness.

My descent was not so far. I landed on something hard yet flexible which gave beneath me with a metal pop as the material bent beneath my weight, effectively absorbing some of the impact. Still, my cut stung as it was reopened. The smell here was even worse. Through the slimming sliver of light from above, I could see that I was in the cargo hold of a massive freighter. There seemed to be enough waste material in the hold for ten of those containment rooms, several tons at least. The light disappeared. I felt a nearly imperceptible shudder as the ship exited hyperspace. The cargo hatch above me sealed shut with a hydraulic hush, followed by a loud clank which reverberated through the walls on either side of me. I felt a subtle accompanying vibration through whatever I now sat upon and felt the unstable ground beneath me shift. I tried not to imagine being buried under an avalanche of garbage. Using what I recalled from my brief glimpse of the interior, I made my way on hands and knees toward the edge. I felt along the wall for any kind of handhold, and upon finding one, I held tight.

Blind, and feeling incredibly small in the freighter's vast hold atop several tons of trash, I became so starkly aware of how fragile my body actually was. Whether the hold was airtight, whether it was pressurized, whether it was insulated against the cold of space and the heat of atmospheric friction, all of these were unknown quantities. I would find out soon enough. Perhaps some day, when I found my way out of this situation, I would devote time to learning about matters such as these. Preferably in a much safer and more comfortable place.

I felt everything move beneath me. We were disengaging. I wondered if it had even occurred to them to check the trash. It seemed incredible to me that I'd gotten this far, but I kept my smugness in check when I thought that they might not discover what I'd done until they found my body, suffocated and long dead among the refuse, if they found it at all.

There was a momentary sickening drop as the freighter left the artificial gravity field of the Finalizer. I found myself jolted upward slightly, jarred from my position sitting balanced on something firm. I automatically threw my free hand out to steady myself without letting go of my handhold, but I never actually landed again.

I was suddenly floating, and so was everything else.

The blood rushed to my head before it settled. My stomach flipped and my legs kicked out as my body automatically tried to regain equilibrium, but in zero G it was impossible. Breathing hard, not even sure whether I was drawing my last breaths, not even caring that the air was still laden with the heavy scent of trash, I pulled my legs to my chest and hugged them there, willing my grip to remain firm and anchor me to the wall.

Though I was in absolute darkness, I closed my eyes. Gently bumped by solid objects all around me, I floated weightless, just another discarded item among many. I forced my rational mind to override my instinctual panic, though it was difficult; without the ability to discern up and down, I was subjected to the repeated rush to my heart that usually accompanied taking a step forward only to discover that there was no ground beneath.

Calmly, I made myself aware of my surroundings and physical state. First and foremost, I was still breathing (reeking air notwithstanding), and my eyeballs did not feel tight, which suggested that the cargo hold was pressurized and air tight. I was also aware, however, that the air that I breathed was limited to whatever had been in the cargo hold when it was sealed shut. Without life support, this would not be sustainable interminably. But I was still breathing for now, and that was worth appreciating.

I could feel the chillness of the air through the cut in my thigh, but my bodysuit provided enough insulation to keep me from really noticing it. I wasn't a scientist, but I knew that without some kind of insulation present in the walls of the cargo hold, I might have already frozen to death. I was cold, but I was alive, and my position was helping to conserve some of my body heat.

After awhile, the sound of objects drifting and gently colliding with one another and the walls of the hold, and the low roar of the freighter's engines, began to fade into the background of my mind. I dared not use my Darksight, not until I was completely sure that I was far enough from Kylo Ren to avoid him sensing my presence, so I was blind in more ways than one. I drifted in darkness so absolute, it was as though there had never been light. The livable, if cold, world where I'd lived all my life, and the sterile, artificial world upon the ship, were a distant fantasy. All that was real, and tangible, was my current weightless existence in the black, thinly shielded from everything that lay outside of these walls. My petty human struggle for survival seemed such a foolish thing to linger on when the galaxy continued around me incomprehensibly ancient and vast, and would continue on long after I eventually died.

The galaxy looked on impassively as a little parcel of air and garbage moved through the vacuum, cocooning me as I met my destiny, whatever it was. Not that I really believed in things like that; destiny, fate, they were just words sentients put on top of the unknowable stretch of time that lay ahead. I'd never really had existential thoughts like these before, but being so close to the vastness of space, even if I couldn't see it, made me feel very small and very fragile.

The cold was beginning to creep in. I shivered again and held my legs a little tighter, though the bulk of the armor interfered. Confronted with the absolute darkness around me, my brain began to fill in visual sensory information. I imagined that I could see shapes in the blackness, like images burned into my eyelids as my mind tried to make sense of it all.

With a gentle nudge, the darkness in my mind began to shift toward something recognizable, and I clung to the mental imagery of a snowy landscape somewhere far below. It was a world bathed in the light of a distant sun. A place where green things grew from the snow, piny and coarse-barked, where, despite the Order's corruption, small animals still survived, lived and died, oblivious to the machinations of sentient, warlike races.

Something large bumped into me drifting downward, jarring me out of my thoughts and making me realize that I was starting to feel weight again.

Ever so slowly, everything began to settle again, though also now everything shook around me as the transport entered the atmosphere. My heart pounded and I was starting to feel lightheaded, though whether it was from nerves or from lack of oxygen, I couldn't be sure. I steadied my breaths, trying to think of anything but the walls between me and the outside of the ship.

I heard the sound of the engines change, at once becoming louder through the walls of the containment space and transitioning into a higher-pitched whine. Garbage moisture, droplets that had been suspended in the air in the zero-G environment, seemed to be coating everything. I felt it like humidity against the fabric of my under armor. The temperature inside the hold was rising. I was going to _stink_ when I got out of there, _if_ I got out of there.

More time passed, my anxiety climbed as I felt myself grow heavier, like the blood was collecting in my feet. And then there was a heavy reverberating clank. Everything jolted, and then was still. Above me, the cargo hold doors began to slide open, two halves separating, forming a widening gap of blinding light.

It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the relative brightness of the space beyond. Cold air rushed in and I breathed deep. It was the sweetest air I'd ever inhaled. I could see that the ship was docked somewhere, for through the cargo hold's doors, I looked up upon a high ceiling rather than open sky. The sounds of industrial activity filtered in through the open top of the freighter's cargo hold: machinery and moving parts, buzzing alarms and industrial fans, distant external comm chatter, all echoing and merging into the welcome sounds of life.

In the light of the base, I could now see that the handhold I'd chosen for myself was one rung of a ladder which led up the wall of the container and toward the large bay door. I climbed it and peered over the edge. At that moment, I contained a dizzying sense of awe for the sheer size of the space and how far above the floor I was. Disoriented, I felt a queer sensation in my chest that felt like my heart had been yanked forward and I had to close my eyes for a moment against the anxiety.

I was in a vast hangar, at least a kilometer across from end to end, with one wall completely open to the exterior. It appeared to be situated within the equatorial chasm. On the floor, I could see the source of the ambient noise around me as slaves, techs, utility droids, and all other manner of personnel and machine worked to transport materials in hovercrates, steer freight transporters, and load and unload various and sundry freighter ships not unlike the one I found myself in. I could see an approaching procession of techs and hangar personnel workers to the ship below me.

Someone in an orange utility worker uniform pointed at me and yelled something that was lost in the din of the large space. He seemed to be speaking to a couple of workers manning a vertical extensor vehicle with a bucket meant to convey workers to high places. Instead of ducking and hiding like I wanted to, I thought quickly. I waved to them and waited at the top of the open hold for the extensor vehicle's lifter arm to raise the bucket the ten meters or so from the floor to my position, bearing aloft a person in a light grey jumpsuit and cap.

Waiting inside, looking clearly dubious, was a young man. In one gloved hand he held a small comm and I tried not to stare too long at it, even though I knew that armed guards could come if he only said the word.

"This cargo hold is clear," I reported, and made to climb out and onto the lift. For a moment he said nothing. He had the most baffled expression on his face. He looked me over from head to toe. I knew I was filthy.

"Sorry, what do you mean 'clear?'" He asked, peering over the edge and into the container. I gestured behind me in the general direction of the trash.

"There was a security breach on the Finalizer," I answered with exaggerated haughtiness. "Didn't they tell you?"

His expression only became more confused. He moved to the edge of the bucket and peered down below. Into the comm mic in his hand, he spoke. "You guys know anything about a security breach?"

I could see one of the figures below shrug. The worker turned back to me looking like he was probably accustomed to not knowing things.

"I knew it was on lockdown, but they didn't say why." And then, with the light of undeniable curiosity in his eyes, "so what happened?"

Encouraged by his ignorance, I continued talking as I hoisted myself over the lip and into the bucket. It dipped slightly when I stepped inside.

"Oh yeah, it's been a crazy day. A soldier went rogue earlier, I'm sure you've heard that at least." The young man nodded knowingly. I continued. "On top of that, some prisoner escaped the detention block. Commanders have the whole ship on alert, they want everything searched. And I mean _everything._ "

He snorted before motioning to his coworkers below, and the bucket began to descend with the whine of hydraulic motors. He continued staring at me, a subtle work-glove-clad hand held beneath his nose in a clear expression of distaste for the bouquet of odors that my uniform had absorbed.

"Don't know who'd want to stow away in the garbage. You must have pulled the short stick in that duty assignment."

"Tell me about it," I said with a laugh. "It's alright. Come shift's end I'll be in the canteen getting shit-faced with zeta squad."

"I hear that," he said with a sage nod, apparently none the wiser to the fact that I'd just made all of that up. When the bucket finished its descent, I jumped down to the hangar floor, hoping none had noticed my unsteadiness. Around me the crew was already at work refueling the freighter and setting to the task of unloading its contents. I waved to the worker.

"Thanks for the lift," I said, turning to walk away.

"Hey, wait a minute," He called after me. "How did you get up there anyway?" I pretended not to hear him, tilting my head as if I were speaking on a private comm channel, and when a massive binary load lifter droid ambled by behind me, I took the opportunity to divert around another freighter and out of sight before anyone else started asking inconvenient questions. I could see entire transporters moving past the exterior wall of the hangar, further giving weight to the sheer scale of the space.

I had an idea of my present location, and as I left the hangar, I tried to come up with the next phase of my plan. Waste processing, including the utility droid maintenance bay I'd worked in, wasn't far from here, if I judged correctly. I'd seen part of the outer wall of what I had considered Starkiller's eye, which placed me near the center of the chasm, and waste processing itself was on the northern hemisphere's side. I found myself thinking back to the meeting between the then Lieutenant General Hux and General Rhidan all that time ago.

At the time I had only been paying as much attention as I needed to respond, but not all that was discussed was entirely lost on me. I remembered something about a structure called the thermal oscillator. Rhidan had considered it a potential weak point and wished to prioritize other means of diverting energy in the chance that it failed. Hux had thought Rhidan overly cautious, arguing that they should instead focus on getting the superweapon itself operational. And so, while the superweapon was all but finished, there were parts of Rhidan's plans that were likely incomplete, if not abandoned entirely.

I stopped near a major intersection as inconspicuously as I could and checked a directory console built into the wall. Ahead of me on this level, past the metal processing and smelting plant was a structure that appeared to go in a straight 45-degree line from the superstructure beneath the chasm, all the way to the surface. The rest of the base's structures seemed to be built around it, and most interesting to me was the fact that it was marked as 'Status: In Progress.' I tried to look up more information on it, but nothing was accessible from there except the name of the unfinished structure: Thermal Regulation Vent. Expanding the view on the console revealed that there was another on the opposite side of the chasm.

Casually so as not to betray my anxiousness, I left the console station and headed toward the surest path to my escape. I made sure to stay as far away from other personnel as I could; an aura of stink from stowing away with the garbage followed me wherever I went, and I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself than I already had. A sense of paranoia accompanied me as I walked. I found myself frequently glancing over my shoulder to check if I was being followed, but no one was paying any more attention to me than anyone else, and no one seemed to be walking in my same direction. I dismissed it as completely justified caution. My actions at this point went far beyond bold and nearly into reckless territory, yet I was so close. I pictured the cave in my mind, as though visualizing it would somehow bring me to it sooner.

The further I traversed into the utility sector, the older and less aesthetic my surroundings became as I found myself in one of the first parts of the base constructed. The predominant personnel, too, began to change from officers and techs to unskilled custodians and utility maintenance workers, punctuated by the occasional trooper patrol who paid me no mind; I was just another soldier on my way to important assignments. I almost missed the door when it was right before me, but there, in large lettering, 'Metals Processing Sub-Level 4B.'

When I stepped through, I was momentarily stunned. I'd entered at the top of what was an immense space. A single suspended walkway with waist-high railings stretched across from the door where I'd entered to the opposite side and the air at this height was thick with steam that was constantly moving, being pulled upward by massive industrial fans that drowned out all other sound. I immediately wished I could remove my helmet. The damaged electronics components did not alleviate the oppressively sweltering heat and moisture in the air. I stepped out of the door's alcove and onto the walkway. I happened to glance down and what I saw made me reflexively hold onto the railing; the fact that I was four stories up from the very bottom of the space was apparent through the grating that comprised the floor of the walkway.

Through the cloud of steam that enveloped me, I could see small figures in heat-resistant enviro suits moving about on the base floor far below. The central space was sandwiched between eight massive open-topped vats whose contents were clearly the source of the heat. Inside of them churned molten metals in constantly shifting lambent shades of yellow, orange, red, glowing effusively in the otherwise dark space. There were lights, but the luminescence they produced was dim in comparison to the superheated materials. Rivulets of melted metal poured from openings in the walls high above the vats and mixed. More layers of walkways and scaffolding were constructed between myself and the bottom, and each level seemed to serve a specific purpose.

By all observation, I was currently on the overseer's walk with the perfect vantage to overlook the activity below. Workstations populated every level but mine, and each one was manned by one or two workers in envirosuits. I quickly determined that I was inappropriately dressed for the context, for when I did see stormtrooper guards below, I recognized the standard flametrooper armor, minus the flame canons that usually accompanied the specialists.

It was for this reason that I decided to leave as quickly as possible before someone noticed how out of place I was. Ahead, through the steam, I could see that the walkway continued for many yards before it ended at a large portal. I could see places where the wall was still incomplete. Gaps in the paneling revealed a comparatively dark space beyond. I had a feeling that this was my thermal regulation vent and my access to the surface. I kept my eyes straight ahead and a firm grip on the walkway's railing as I crossed the tremendous distance from one side to another. I was completely deaf for the sound of the fans above and nearly blind; the sulfur-laden steam continuously fogged up the outside of my helmet's view and I had to keep wiping it off. It didn't help that the growing tightness in my chest made me check behind myself repeatedly, not that I could see anything.

I got to the door. A warning sign was posted above it which read, "caution: construction zone ahead. Work droids and authorized personnel only."

With one last look behind me to confirm that no one followed, though it was difficult to discern as the first half of the walkway was obscured behind a wall of rising steam, I bypassed the security locks with surprising ease and slipped through the door.

The directory had not given me an accurate idea of the size of the thermal regulation vent, though I should not have been surprised. Like everything else on Starkiller Base, it was spacious. Unlike on a space craft, room was not an issue and the scale was such that two troop transporter shuttles could navigate it side by side with room to spare. But then, I imagined that for a superweapon the size of the one in the equatorial chasm, any heat vents would need to be substantial.

I was immediately greeted by the sight of various droids hard at work installing paneling on the interior as well as numerous complicated-looking technical components. Intake slits, like gills, peppered the surfaces in a triple helix spiral from the depths until around where I'd entered where progress seemed about half complete. That was the key, though, for the tunnel was clearly only partially finished.

Peering down and to my left, I could see that the tube extended farther than my eyes could discern before fading into the deep in a distant, disconcerting reddish haze. The installation of paneling and mechanical components continued past me to my right for some ways. After a dozen yards or so, progress seemed to peter out along with the finished interior, and fade into a darkness hardly breached by the insufficient utility lighting. What detail I could make out painted a picture of a gradient: from my left to the right, from the bottom to the top, the thermal vent was in ascending stages of completion.

Rhidan's plan, I thought. The fact that it was in progress told me that Hux had not abandoned it completely. Old anger twisted in my stomach when I thought of Rhidan's death and how unnecessary it had been, and how cold. I shivered as a chilly errant breeze passed me. Despite finding it necessary to get rid of him, Hux had seen value in Rhidan's wisdom, even if he didn't agree with his priorities.

Though I would have preferred to pick a path that was better illuminated, I knew that my only chance for freedom lay on the planet's surface. And so, sparing the worker droids, whose labors generated periodic cascades of sparks as well as plenty of noise, a lingering look to ensure that they did not seem to notice me, I began the trek upwards.

After twenty minutes or so, it seemed that I hadn't made much progress. And as the well-lit section began to drop behind me, my feeling of dread only grew. Why hadn't anyone found me yet? Why hadn't the baseside troops been alerted to my escape? I found it difficult to believe that the Commanders might think I was still on the Finalizer. It _was_ possible, but both men were intelligent enough to have figured it out by now. Something about how easy, relatively speaking, my escape had been thus far did not sit well with me, and the heavy, tight feeling in my chest was not helping. I wrote it off as nerves, as stress, though I had learned to listen to my body's instincts. I couldn't afford to attribute it to anything else, not when I was so close.

A burst of light startled me and I looked to my left where a lone droid was installing durasteel paneling to the wall atop a scaffold, throwing sparks. In the bright illumination, I could make out the sight of large metal crates underneath the skeletal structure, including one still attached to the repulsor-powered claw arm of a utili-speeder.

I might have laughed, then, with joy. My journey would be so much easier with a vehicle. The quicker I could get out of here, the sooner I could find that cave and find out what the Force had been trying to tell me. The urge to reach that snowy landscape was palpable. I rushed to the speeder now but froze hard in my tracks.

I could see a dark figure, human-shaped, behind one of the crates. The desire to flee rose in my throat. The figure was moving strangely, and I felt my hand grope the blaster holster on my hip only to discover that it was empty; I must have lost it in transit, and instead tried to gather power inside of myself. When another burst of sparks fell, I could discern that there were, in fact, two people. A soft moan belied the scene I'd discovered, and my instinct to defend myself faded.

And then, "Harris, get off!" A woman, her face pale and frightened, peered at me around the shoulder of the man whose back was to me on top of her. The man turned to look at me, and upon seeing me standing there with my helmet off, scrambled to get to his feet. Both hurried to cover themselves.

"What are you doing here, soldier?" The man named Harris demanded, his voice trembling as his eyes darted to the helmet I held in my hand. I could see that he was an officer from the embroidered band on his cuff, if a low-ranking one. The woman, younger than he in her mid twenties, was wearing the uniform of a junior tech.

"I could ask you the same thing," I said carefully, making a quick calculation of the situation. When the two exchanged panicked looks, I knew that my first assumption was correct. "Fraternizing with subordinate personnel is against regulations unless I'm mistaken."

Harris swallowed, his eyes narrowed while the young woman glanced between us. "What do you want?"

"I want to forget I saw anything," I replied simply. Harris appeared to be momentarily at a loss. "If you return to your station immediately, I won't report this." He took this in.

"Come on," he said, then, helping the young woman off the floor.

"My speeder," she said. There was a faint prickling behind my eyes and I gave PO Harris a hard look.

"Leave it," he said tersely, taking her hand. The two quickly departed through a hidden panel a few strides down the tunnel, and the sound of a sealing maglock confirmed that I was alone once more. My heart pounded and I allowed myself the luxury of a deep, slow breath to steady my shaking hand.

I went to the speeder, whose nose was pointed toward my destination. The controls seemed simple enough, and when I turned a lever, the repulsor claw opened, dropping the large crate that had been sitting in its grasp with a cacophonous crack of metal slamming into metal. The sound reverberated in either direction. I didn't waste time. I hooked the helmet onto the back, with greater range of vision in mind, and climbed onto the saddle seat. I revved the accelerator. The moment I heard the turbine begin to whir, a wash of hot pinpricks consumed my back and the back of my scalp, and I was shot through with raw, animal panic.

 _Don't look back, don't look back!_

I gunned it.

A timely spray of falling sparks from the worker droid's drill illuminated a massive object as it hurtled across my path. I swerved so suddenly to avoid it that I was almost unseated. I barely had time to register the shape of the metal crate before it smashed to pieces into the opposite wall. A gout of steam glowing with red light poured out of the broken wall paneling, followed closely by a hissing spurt of molten liquid.

Without thinking, I kicked the vehicle's accelerator again and shot forward full speed for the thickening wall of steam ahead of me. Within it, sparks made the color strobe from red to white in flashes like lightning.

The Force presence exploded across my skin and something solid slammed into my chest. Suddenly my entire body was thrown backwards. I saw the utili-speeder continue without me into the curtain of steam just before I hit the floor and tumbled. The world spun end over end and it seemed like it would never stop until my legs arrested my momentum and I slid to a halt, the gritty floor abrading my cheek.

My mind was a blank canvas of instinct. I thrust myself to my feet as soon as I could tell which direction was up, and heaved a half-formed ball of spiked wrath toward the massive Force aura that filled the tunnel ahead. I didn't wait before slinging another. The first struck the center but the second missed as my target twisted to the side. I prepared to strike again only to find that I was unable to move.

A cloud surrounded me and tightened against my skin. When once this had been gentle suspension, now it was a body-conforming suit of needles that bypassed my stormtrooper armor as though I wore nothing. With every attempt to move, I felt it tighten until I felt that I almost couldn't breathe.

And now, forced to remain still, I stared with unchecked hatred, muscles trembling in my full-body vise-like grip, at Kylo Ren. He now stood only a few strides away, his outstretched hand reaching toward me. I struggled to catch my breath, and I saw his broad shoulders move in a subtler but still visible sign of exertion.

For a long moment, we stared at one another. Then his hand slowly lowered, and the pressure on my body lessened by a small amount. The memory of a droid's frantic beeping before being crushed sounded in my head.

" **Riala,** " he said. " **There is nowhere left for you to run.** "

I swallowed and found that my tongue was working even if the rest of my body did not obey.

"Fuck you," I said.

The pressure again lessened and, to my utter bafflement, disappeared entirely. I could still feel his power lurking in around the edges of our battlefield, as though the shadows were living things that answered to him. From the corner of my eye, I could see an oozing line of glowing hot fluid running along the wall to my left. When he'd thrown the crate, he must have burst a vein transporting the superheated metals because it now flowed downhill, cutting a line of steam through the moisture in the air as it went. Droids were working to repair the damage even now. I could hear their drilling behind me, but I dared not look and risk removing my eyes from him.

"How did you know where I was?" I asked, seething.

" **Our bond,** " he replied simply. " **I knew the moment you left the ship, as I'm sure you knew the moment I arrived on base. After that, I simply had to follow the stench of garbage.** "

I remembered the tightening in my chest the moment I looked out onto the hangar, the nearly palpable paranoia that followed me, and cursed my own stupidity. I'd taken it for nerves, fear, any number of things, perhaps in an act of denial.

"I'm not going to Snoke. You will have to kill me now," I said, though I had no intention of going down easily. I was sure that the next time he tried to use the Force to hold me, I would throw him off. There was the matter of his lightsaber, however.

" **I don't intend to kill you at all,** " he said. I made to look at the mess he'd made of the tunnel behind me, but stopped myself, refusing to let him out of my sight for what good it would do me.

"You expect me to believe you? After everything?"

He raised his hand and I raised my mental barriers against impending attack, but none came.

" _ **I could crush your throat,**_ _"_ he growled, clenching his fist illustratively." **And you wouldn't be able to stop me. Have you forgotten that I trained you?** " Indignation blossomed in the heat in my face when I realized he'd probably read my mind before. How foolish must he think me?

"If you aren't going to kill me, then what? Torture? Imprisonment?" I briefly clenched my eyes against the quavering sense of nausea and terror expanding in my chest. I no longer had reservations about what he was capable of. Remembering my helplessness in the interrogation harness made me feel sick and weak, even now.

" **I merely wish to talk. You might have known that, had you waited. But instead, you chose this pointless exercise in disobedience. It could not have come at a worse time.** "

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you," I snapped. "But when we spoke last, you drew your weapon. And before that…" I trailed off, lost for a moment. "I don't feel safe in my own mind anymore."

I couldn't stop the emotion from creeping into the last words. Traitorous moisture burned my eyes and I had to stop speaking to keep from betraying the fear I felt even now. Having to speak of it again only reopened the emotional wound that had just begun to close.

" **You left me no choice,** " he replied with far too much calm. " **The pilot escaped only after you spoke to him. And FN-2187… it seems that you're drawn to trouble, Riala.** "

I couldn't help but make a derisive noise and only just noticed the burning sensation on my cheek where it had scraped the floor, and the telltale tickle of blood. If he knew the irony of that statement and how it applied very well to our current situation, he didn't let on. Still, while it didn't excuse what he'd done and how he'd made me feel, I knew that he was right.

"Well you wanted to talk. So talk." It wasn't as though I could go anywhere, and despite everything, I was curious to hear what he had to say.

* * *

Author's Note 2: The next part is well underway, I assure you, and it will not take another month (give or take... ;_;) to post. I couldn't help but use this as the title, so forgive me :)

Thanks, as always, for reading!


	40. The Choice

"You wanted to talk. So talk."

My mental barriers were well in place. I didn't trust him even if he were making no attempt to read me, which he wasn't.

" **It's not too late for you, Riala,** " he said, echoing words I'd heard coming from someone I actually cared about.

"So you overheard my conversation with the Captain," I stated. I wasn't sure whether it made me feel better or worse to know that Phasma had not acted on her own. At least now I could still entertain thoughts of her reluctance to dissuade and entrap me, but it made my leaving all the more difficult.

" **Did you think we'd let you speak to her privately after what you did to your guards?** "

The rage rose in me faster than I could quell it. "How _dare_ you judge me. I never wanted-"

He silenced me with a gesture, but I continued fuming. " **I didn't chase you down so that I could punish you for the stormtrooper. Or the pilot. Or anything** ** _else_** **you've done,** " he said with a sharp edge to his warped voice.

He sounded as though this entire situation were simply a hassle to him rather than a matter of life or death as it was to me. The faint scent of refuse that lingered around me despite the movement of air was a stark reminder of what I'd been through just to get away from him, and how ultimately futile it had been to try.

"Then what?" I felt him sweep his eyes over me, and I realized that I'd been unconsciously fidgeting with the edge of a thigh armor plate. I made myself stop.

" **I have something for you**."

He reached behind himself. For a brief moment, I thought he was reaching for his lightsaber and felt a spike of panic. Though it would do little to protect me, I let the Force gather in my palms. But when he brought his hands forward again, he was holding my vibroblades in their sheaths. The tight tingling of the gathered defensive energy in my hands subsided slightly. I'd forgotten about them.

He tossed them then, and they landed on the cold floor at my feet with a clatter, close enough for me to reach. I watched him with the wariness of a feral animal. And then I snatched them up, attaching them to the utility belt, all the while trying to keep my eyes on him. Despite the fact that they would do nothing for me if I was forced to defend myself, I felt better having them. At least I was armed.

" **The loss of one soldier is nothing. You have gained new insight into your abilities, haven't you? So her death was not in vain.** "

"I doubt she would see it that way."

" **We live in a cold universe, Riala. Death is an inevitability. Star systems are destroyed and others are reborn in the ashes. Entire civilizations rise and fall, only to rise again in another form.** "

I was struck by the coldness of his words and the truth in them. How closely they reflected my inner musings from within the freighter.

"Do you really think us so inconsequential?"

" **Some, yes,** " he answered, infuriatingly calm." **Not us, though. We answer to a greater calling. The Force speaks to us and leads us down paths that regular beings will never comprehend. Through us, it acts in ways that shape the galaxy and the fate of all that exist within it.** "

"You believe in fate," I stated, dubious, though I supposed I wasn't entirely surprised.

" **I must,** " he said. He began walking back and forth before me slowly. Small glimpses of the emotional turmoil inside of him came through to me and I wondered what he was thinking. " **I can't ignore my blood. It's strong, yes, but also tainted by weakness… my grandfather was a great man. But it is his faults that I must answer for and amend.** "

Perhaps as someone who didn't have any particular connection to my ancestors, I couldn't comprehend the burden of the acts and choices of one's progenitors. Clearly something else was at stake here.

"What did he do that was so terrible? Enough that it falls on you to fix it?" And finally, I asked the question that had bothered me before. If not now, then when? " _Who_ was he?"

" **You already know the answer,** " he said, now stopping in his pacing and watching me pointedly. Waiting.

Frustrated, I turned away from him toward the scaffolding to our side where above, the droid was busy installing a wall panel onto the unfinished stone interior of the tunnel wall. I could see that the scaffolding it sat upon also served as a sort of support brace for the vent shaft. I watched the droid's precise movements as I thought back to our many conversations, particularly the directions of my studies. Throughout them, I found myself fixated on the late emperor, Darth Sidious and his legacy. Kylo Ren, however, often referred to the Sith master's apprentice. He seemed drawn to him, and indeed, inspired by him.

I looked back to where he patiently stood as my sluggish mind caught up. Tall and broad-shouldered, Kylo Ren made an imposing figure in the poor lighting of the tunnel, or indeed, anywhere. His helmet, battered from battle, had once seemed skull-like to me.

Though perhaps not as much as the man to whom it was likely a tribute.

I closed my eyes, astounded that I had not seen it until now. His lineage was as much a part of him as anything. The grandson of a dark lord of the Sith.

"I understand," I said in a neutral tone. My meaning was twofold. I understood why he felt such a strong tie to his lineage, but also why he was such a creature of conflict.

" **My parents tried to warp the darkness in me into something more… palatable. They would have had me follow in the footsteps of my uncle.** "

"Luke Skywalker."

He nodded. " **They failed. All of them. Supreme Leader Snoke was my salvation. His wisdom helped me seek my destiny and right the wrongs of my forbears.** "

"Snoke does not have such an investment in me," I said. Why was it so difficult for me to find my path when it seemed so simple for him?

" **You don't know him as I do. He values those with the ability to think for themselves. He has enough dogs at heel. What he needs now are those who can see the grand design. Your petty rebellions are nothing to him, Riala. You must come with me when I speak to him, Riala. Show him what you are capable of. Trust in his wisdom and you will discover that your destiny is at my side.** "

Doubt entered my mind, but this time it was doubt of my own convictions. My impressions of Snoke were not necessarily false, but it was possible that I'd miscalculated. Everything about his demeanor in my brief encounter spoke of dispassion and calm, so the opposite of Kylo Ren, and somehow all the more frightening for it. At least Kylo Ren's feelings were never in question; most of the time it seemed that he could barely contain them. Why _was_ he so passionate about this, about getting me to concede rather than simply getting rid of the complication I represented? He'd even come close. But something had stayed his hand, and I doubted it was Snoke's will. No, this was far more personal to him. Despite the fact that I could read him, and sense his emotions, I still felt that a piece of the puzzle was missing. Why was he so determined to get me before his Master?

"There's something you're not telling me. What is so vitally important about me? Why do you persist?"

The unreadable face looked down slightly as he considered his words. When he looked up again, I felt a tangled bundle of emotions in him, and it didn't matter that I couldn't see his expression. My breath caught in my throat for the overwhelming ache that filled my chest. He moved toward me and I felt no urge to flee. All of my fear was gone. All that remained was sadness and longing. It was all purely his, and it paralyzed me more surely than any use of the Force.

" **I know the loneliness you feel,** " he said finally before his voice trailed off. Where before he'd spoken with surety and confidence, now there was hesitation. I felt the absurd urge to touch him on his shoulder and comfort him. The faint sting of my cheek from when he'd pulled me from the speeder held me, but only just. " **Isolation is familiar company to us both.** "

"I prefer to be alone. It's not so uncommon," I said before my face could betray the truth in his words. He simply looked at me, but the ache in my heart grew sharper and I knew that my protestation was too thinly veiled to be effective. I studied the texture of the rough, unfinished rock wall within the tunnel.

" **I understand you, Riala. More than you know.** " He was only a stride away from me when he began to slowly circle around the place where I stood. I followed him with my eyes until we both faced the dark upper reaches of the endless tunnel. It occurred to me that he now stood between myself and my escape route. I could see the droids working busily to repair the wall still, though the flow of molten metal had stopped and that which had already spilled was now cooled, a solid, rippled ribbon with a muddy gray luster that had progressed past our point in the vent tunnel by many yards. The steam cloud had long dissipated though the moisture seemed to linger behind, buffeted about by the cool breeze that was constant here, and I could see where the utili-speeder, riderless, sat motionless with its nose against the wall far ahead. He turned his head so that his helmet's profile was visible against the dim utility lighting lining the ceiling of the tunnel above us.

" **I know the conflict you feel, because I feel it too. Inside of us, the war between Darkness and Light rages. But we don't have to fight this battle alone. You have been tempted. You can't let yourself be fooled by it.** "

It was true that there had been times when my feelings seemed at odds with what he was trying to teach me. Most prominent was my guilt and conflict over the deaths I'd caused, directly and indirectly. These matters had barely given him pause if not eliciting a quite different reaction from him entirely. Could it really be so simple? Was that what the Light Side of the Force felt like? Like guilt and pain over the suffering of others?

"You've had doubts?"

" **Yes,** " he answered now without hesitation. " **In my youth, many attempts were made to bend me toward the Light and force me to conform the Jedi tenets. The damage done to me then was not so easily healed. I still feel it. I feared the connection between you and I would make me weak, but I can see that I was wrong. I now know why the Supreme Leader allowed me to teach you.** "

"Why?"

" **He must have wisely seen how strong we are together. That you would help me overcome my weakness. In guiding you to devote yourself fully to the Dark Side, I can finally burn away the poison of my lineage. I need you, Riala. And you need me. Without me, without the guidance of Lord Snoke, you would be nothing.** "

His response was not the comfort I'd hoped it would be. He was convinced, but all I had was his word and my brief experience with Snoke himself, and that was under circumstances that were extraordinarily tense.

"You just want power," I said. I thought of how he'd reacted when we were joined together and he felt what I'd felt when I surrendered myself to the Force presence beneath, a deep and seemingly limitless power he'd discovered was that of Ilum's core. He'd been stunned by it and overcome, and more than a little intrigued. At the time, I'd been troubled by his interest.

" **Yes,** " he said. His candid answer surprised me. " **But that is not the only thing I want.** "

I watched him mutely as he disengaged the fasteners on his helmet. He lifted it from his head, showing me his bare face as he'd done so many times before. I could see his dark curls plastered by dried sweat to his forehead. His dark eyes were on my lips. He gripped the edge of his helmet in one hand that dangled loosely at his side. In the dim light, his eyes seemed to reflect everything that I felt in him at that moment. His emotional feedback was jumbled, a tangle of old pain and a fresh, poignant feeling that was hard to place. And something else. Something that he was withholding.

"Power is empty without someone to share in it," he said, looking at me with an intensity that was frightening.

"You are attracted to me," I said, my eyes narrowed. "Nothing more."

"No," he answered, the word fierce. "It is… everything about you. You infuriate me, and you challenge me at every turn. Yet when you're not near, I feel splintered. As though I am not whole, and never will be, unless you are with me."

I didn't know what I expected him to say, but it wasn't that. He glanced down, breaking our locked gazes, his lips alternately pursed and relaxed as he seemed to struggle with what he'd just told me. I didn't know what to say, and the silence stretched as his admittance hung over us.

"You were once afraid of attachment," I said.

His eyes seemed to glitter in the dark.

"Dispassionate detachment is a Jedi fallacy," he said. "My grandfather's misguided obligation to family divided his loyalties. But with you, there is no conflict. We are on the same side. Our cooperation can only strengthen the First Order and the Supreme Leader's cause."

I growled and turned away, feeling jittery and frustrated. I needed a moment to think, a luxury that he was not granting me. I had the nagging sense that there was something more, some other angle I couldn't see.

He wanted us to be together. He wanted me with him as his, what, apprentice? Lover? Concubine? Partner? I didn't think he even knew. He cared for me. He had all but confessed his emotional attachment, something I'd long suspected but, until now, he'd denied. _I care nothing for you beyond your capacity to serve the Supreme Leader,_ he'd said so coldly after I'd tried to confront him with the truth _._ And now, he claimed that Snoke had orchestrated this all along, that he would want me to continue to train under him. _Do not let weakness cloud your judgement,_ the Supreme Leader had warned him. Was that what was happening now?

Was Kylo Ren simply too blinded by his desire for me? Or, in being so close, was he able to understand his master far better than I could? It was surreal to be having this conversation now, when only minutes before, I'd been so ready to run. I had been so sure that I was making the right choice.

Perhaps it didn't matter, I thought. Maybe it was too late for me. Perhaps I was too deeply enmeshed now to separate myself from this fate. It would certainly remove the burden of choice from me, though that was not an outcome that sat comfortably with me after having been subject to a life without choice for so long. _The Supreme Leader values those that can think for themselves._ Maybe all of my conflict, all of my doubt, was simply part of my growth. Kylo Ren was so sure. After all, he'd seen everything inside of me, my thoughts and feelings, and he was more convinced than ever that our fate was intertwined.

Everything had once been so simple. I'd been so naïve, yes, and perhaps if I had known it would come down to this, I wouldn't have entertained my doubts. But my ambitions, my grand plans to attain some kind of mastery of my abilities, seemed so foolish now. Maybe, if I'd tried harder to conform to the ideals of the Dark Side, I might have gotten farther. But without my minor acts of rebellion, I wouldn't have learned as much about my abilities as I had. Would agreeing to go with Kylo Ren now mean that I would have to deny the powers I had that didn't align with the Dark Side? Force-enhanced empathy was a Light Side trait, but siphoning of life energy was distinctly Dark. What was I supposed to do?

I couldn't think. Something about this felt wrong, but my wants and desires met the wall of my common sense. That wall was beginning to crumble. I didn't know what to do, and I felt that I was on the verge of a turning point, as though I were at a crossroads where any destination held concealed perils, if only I could see them now. I needed to be rational, I needed to step away from the situation to look at it objectively, because at the moment, my heart and my mind were at war.

I turned back to him, and only then noticed how close he'd come to me. Suddenly, he was reaching for my face, and without thinking, the hand that had been fidgeting with the handle of my vibrostiletto whipped it out of its sheath.

The blade was at his throat with my thumb hovering over the deadly vibro-function control before I realized what I was doing.

For a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, neither one of us moved. My wide eyes were on his calm ones and his hand remained hovering in the air halfway to my face. My breath seemed so loud, now.

I realized with detached interest that I was shaking and he seemed to notice too. Undeterred by the threat of my weapon, he cupped the side of my jaw and looked into my eyes. The black pools reflected everything yet revealed little of what existed beneath the surface. But what did he have to hide when he was allowing me to feel what he felt? At the moment I was struggling to keep my feelings separate from his, though the desire to maintain separateness was fading with every passing moment that his hand touched my skin.

And then he pushed his pale face forward until the blade met his throat.

Our lips touched. He smelled like sweat and smoke and the sweet musky perfume of his hair sank into my skin. There was a crash as his helmet hit the floor of the tunnel, and then his arms were around my waist, crushing my body, stormtrooper armor and all, against him.

I could feel the blade's edge biting into the material of his neck covering, and I wondered if it was sharp enough to cut him, even deactivated. The taste of him was enough to make me forget everything that had happened, and though the faint scent of garbage lingered in the edges of my awareness, neither of us cared. In his embrace, I felt liquefied, as though my body were being held together by his arms around me and the surface tension of my skin. Beneath my armor, I melted.

One of his hands slid across my scraped cheek, my raw nerve endings igniting under the smooth leather of his glove. His fingers then snaked upward through my hair, snagging on the tangles and imparting small shocks of pain where they caught. Something about the pain reminded me why I was so drawn to him. He was imperfect, and that only made him more desirable to me, another imperfect, broken person.

My body told me that this was where I belonged, that there was no choice but the one that would let me keep this moment alive. The line of fire from the sensitive skin of my lips to that which was between my thighs was the glue that kept me adhered where I stood. My grip tightened on the handle of my blade as I tried to remember why I held it in the first place. There had to be a reason.

"Don't fight it," he murmured, resting his forehead against mine. I felt the stiletto, still pressing against his thinly covered throat, bob slightly when he spoke. A single, baffling tear traced a wet line from the inner corner of my eye to my jaw. He kissed my forehead, and then my temple. "You feel it, too. _You_ _need_ _me_."

Yet as he kissed my lips again, I couldn't find the words to describe exactly what I was feeling. His effusion of emotion was clouding my thoughts, almost like static noise, though with the volume turned up. Was he deliberately giving me this confusion? I leaned away, breaking the contact between our lips. The hand holding the blade faltered. _You need me._ The meaning of his words came to me after a delay. He renewed his efforts, brushing his lips over one exposed ear.

"You are mine," he whispered, sending shivers down my spine.

 _His_ _._ The gears in my head began to cast off their rust and resume turning. Perhaps he had not meant it in the way that I'd heard it, as a Master to a former slave. He'd meant it to be seductive, comforting. But it was enough to make my sluggish mind begin to work again.

I pulled back, then, breaking the spell of his physical contact, if only for the moment.

He could see that my mind was working again and I could see his doing the same as his dark eyes flickered over my features. But had his ever really stopped working? I took in his visage. He'd grown so comfortable with showing me his true face, so much that in our familiarity, it dispelled some of the mystique that had surrounded him at the beginnings of our relations. Indeed, it had begun the process of gaining my trust. He'd succeeded in developing a persona around his black mask and terrifying presence, but he'd allowed me to see him for what he really was. Perhaps the result of such a gambit was twofold. Yes, it had allowed me to see him as more human, and had solidified what seemed like the inevitable sexual attraction between us. But also, it had served to make me comfortable. To let my guard down.

I glanced at the blade in my hand. Why hadn't he stopped me when I pulled it on him? Because he wasn't afraid that I'd actually hurt him. He'd wanted to imbue me with a sense of self-determination. Slowly, I brought it back to its sheath and slipped it in. His dark brows tensed. The emotional bridge between us began to take on a less sure, more threatening edge as I seemed to wake from slumber. He'd _wanted_ me to feel as though I were making a choice, when really, he'd been directing me this entire time.

Anger flashed across my heart. Everything about this meeting had been calculated. Everything, including the strategic sharing of his feelings. Perhaps they weren't entirely false, but as powerful as he was, surely he was able to restrain himself somewhat when it suited him. He'd been withholding something this entire time and now I thought I was beginning to understand.

"There's something else, isn't there?" I said, taking a step back. His arms, which had been holding me loosened.

"What do you mean?" He asked, too lightly.

"Snoke must be angry after what happened today," I said slowly. "How are you going to make it up to him?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said. I saw a subtle threat in his words. Don't go any further, he seemed to say.

"Your motives for tracking me down, Kylo. They weren't entirely selfless, were they?" A feeling of dread was beginning to grow in my gut. Suddenly, even the loose hold he had on me felt too tight, too constricting.

"No, of course not. You know that I want you. At my side," he said moving in closer suddenly, his hand touching my hair. " _In my bed._ "

I shrugged him off and stepped away. The spike in his irritation level when I did this made my hackles rise.

"You want me to think it's a simple matter of lust. But that's not it, is it? You need me for another reason," I said. By the look on his face I knew that I'd struck the truth. The realization trickled down my spine like cold water. "Your _Master._ "

"Yes," he said. His voice had turned to ice. "Supreme Leader Snoke _would_ benefit from your abilities. You also know this, and I'm growing bored with this conversation. What is it that you think I'm doing?"

The switch from hot to cold had been so sudden I felt like I'd been slapped.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" I said, even more aware now that he stood between me and the surface of the planet. "You will take me to him whether I choose to go or not."

"It would be easier if you came willingly," he said. "But not necessary. I don't know why you fight me on this, of all things. Don't you desire more power? More strength? The ability to take what you want from those undeserving of it? I can help you. Leader Snoke is very interested in the slave girl that freed herself."

"Is he?" I said. "Does he know that I was free before I even met you?"

He clenched his fist, and moved forward a step with such aggression that I backed away from him involuntarily. I couldn't remember why I'd been so physically intoxicated by him before. Had it been some trick? I pulled the power into my hands, knowing the weapons he'd returned to me to be all but useless.

"You were _nothing_ before me," he snarled with sudden spite. "Nothing but a diversion for a low-born military fool who had no idea what he had. I know you wanted more. That's why you asked me, _begged_ me, to train you."

I let loose a bitter laugh, feeling nearly delirious for the hole I was digging for myself.

"It doesn't matter what I want. You said it yourself, my compliance is not necessary. Yet you want me alive. Why is that? What do you want with me really?"

His shoulders hunched forward, and his face sank into a bitter glare. "If you refuse me, I will use you however I see fit. In whatever way the Supreme Leader deems necessary. Once he learns of your connection to the core of this planet I have no doubt that he will see the advantage in keeping you alive."

My eyes widened in horror and I felt the blood drain from my face as I realized what he was implying. That I could be used, against my will, as a conduit for the Force energy I'd felt. It did not matter that such connections had been forged in moments of intimacy. There were ways, I was sure, to bring about the same effect without my enjoyment.

"It doesn't have to be that way," he said quickly, desperation in his voice. "I don't want that, Riala. Not for you."

"But you are willing to do it," I said back, trying to swallow away the dryness in my throat with no success. I felt sick, shaky, clammy.

"I'm giving you a chance to _become_ something," he growled, losing his façade of patience. "Despite everything you've done, I'm offering you a future. You've wanted this, I know you have."

"I think what you and I want are very different," I said, not caring about the prickling of his aura as it began to rise around him, a manifestation of his growing anger and the loss of his ability to control it. "You want me to be your plaything. And when it suits you, when it suits your master, a tool."

"Would that be so unpleasant?" He asked, color rising in his cheeks, unguarded light coming to his eyes. "We could be together. And perhaps, with training, you might find that you enjoy your role. You could help me-" he cut himself off, clenching his eyes and looking to the side. I bared my teeth at him, breathing hard, clenching my fists.

"Help you… what, become as powerful as your grandfather?" I uttered a sharp, harsh laugh, when I realized this was exactly what he'd been about to say. "I have read about him. He was powerful, perhaps more powerful than any other in recorded history. How difficult it must have been, to grow up in his shadow. At once reviled by your parents and unable to reach his level."

When he looked at me again, his eyes flashed, and a darkness seemed to cross his features. That was all the warning I had before he struck me. Not with the Force, but with his own hand. Stunned, I held my hand to my stinging cheek. I was sure that he could have hit me harder, but the fact that he'd done so at all was unforgivable. Bitter pleasure welled in me when I saw the regret immediately take the place of the remnants of his rage.

"I should not have done that," he grated. "But you speak on things you don't understand. You know _nothing_ of my past."

"It doesn't matter. I see you for what you are, Kylo Ren," I replied, mustering as much pure, unadulterated contempt as I could. "You're a _monster_."

"So be it."

He shrugged and almost casually moved his hand. At least, that's how I saw it. With my Force perception, I sensed the massive surge of power a millisecond before it slammed into me and sent me hurtling off to the side. I crashed into the base of another support structure, making the thin metal buckle when I hit. A groan reverberated upwards and flecks of dust and rock fragments fell where the scaffolding was attached to the bare rock ceiling.

Stunned, I watched as he bent down easily and picked up his helmet. He pulled it on and locked it into place, hiding his face from the world once more, assuming the mantle of the monster.

" **It might have been appealing once, but I grow tired of your rebelliousness.** "

"You're tired? I climbed to my feet, gripping the shaky metal structure for balance. "I wish I'd never met you," I growled, collecting energy into my palm and then cracking it like a whip. The tendril of power wrapped around his forearm.

Suddenly, the arm curled up, convulsing in agony as his muscles seized up against the infusion of pure, wrathful pain. I heard him grunt through the vocoder, his arm shaking. But where Hux had been helpless to such a tactic, Kylo Ren almost seemed to gain strength from it. Using his other hand, he hurled a mass of power toward me. I dodged to the side, and the scaffolding behind me crumpled where it had impacted. Bits of broken bolts and screws clattered to the floor and another cloud of dust fell upon me from above. A discomforting creaking sound came from the ceiling where it had been attached. My concentration broken, the link to him was severed.

What followed was a string of attacks, barely warded off by my own defenses. He came close to overpowering me until met with the counterattacks he himself had taught me, only for him to strike from a different angle. Ceaselessly he chipped away at my endurance and my will. He was merciless, toying with me, never advancing or ceding. He seemed to take special pleasure now in reminding me of my place, and I was forced to retreat, stepping backwards until I bumped into the scaffolding.

" **I don't have time for this. You will come with me now.** "

Immediately he waved his hand before me. I was confused when I felt not the attack I'd been expecting, but the entire world as it tilted on its axis. My vision went black and the floor rose up beneath me.

Knowledge of the world and what had led to this moment faded. It felt as though I were lying beneath many heavy layers of blanket. I felt soft, warm, and drowsy. I wanted to drift there. It seemed that nothing could touch me, and nothing concerned me. Whatever had been troubling me was gone, and I didn't have the energy to spare thinking about it. Thinking at all took more effort than it was worth.

Nothing of the outside world came to me, but there was something like a clear, distant sound. A tone, musical and ringing, far away. _Fight,_ it seemed to say to me. _Fight._ A part of my brain, small but persistent, heard this call and was galvanized back to life. It fought against the lure of oblivion.

The sound was familiar to me, and It was a lifeline between my awareness and the waking world. I began to rise through consciousness again, shreds and layers of dark silence falling away one by one as though I were being lifted from beneath.

The higher I progressed, the fainter the sound became until it was gone, but I still felt it around me, filling me. My thoughts and senses came back. I felt the pull of gravity against my feet and dangling arms, but not the ground beneath me. Through slitted eyelids, I saw the ceiling and its blurry line of utility lights bobbing above me and a black helmet from underneath. I was being carried.

Before he could realize that I was no longer out, I filled my hands with wrath with as much ease as taking a breath, and planted them directly on his torso whereupon I shocked him with knives of pure pain.

He reacted immediately, flinching, and I twisted my body from his arms. I landed hard on the ground, the wind knocked out of me and rolled to the side. I sprang to my feet, finding more energy than I knew I possessed. Everything seemed to move slowly. Everything but me. I lashed out with my wrath at that moment, and this time, I struck for his neck, and when I made contact, I didn't let go.

It was too potent. More than it should have been. Immediately I heard him cry out, his hands flying to his neck, scrabbling, tugging at the neck covering. Hot wrath filled me and I took pleasure in the strained sounds I heard coming from him, somehow made all the sweeter by the vocoder filter. My feet were locked to the ground and a charge seemed to pass through them. I could sense the sheer immensity of Force energy pouring into me from beneath. Somehow, by the grace of this strength, he was choking. Yet lacking telekinetic powers, I didn't understand.

I watched in horror as his legs trembled, stumbled. An arm flew out and a poorly aimed burst of energy crashed into the wall near me. Sweat sprang to my brow and suddenly I was overly hot in my full armor. As with his arm when I'd lashed at him, the muscles of his throat and neck were seizing and convulsing in agony. He was being strangled from the inside, and part of me wanted to see it through.

 _Kill him_ , a mental voice hissed then, like ice water injected through my boiling veins. It was unlike anything I'd ever thought before. _Avenge the injustice you've been dealt._ I listened to it, feeling my heart harden. He _deserved_ to die for what he'd done to me. Part of me wanted him to die.

Kylo Ren thrashed his arm, and an entire wall panel dislodged behind me and smashed into the opposite wall. He fell to his knees, grunting, gasping. _Kill him._ Kylo Ren, my former teacher, the most powerful Force-sensitive I'd ever come across, was on his knees before me.

This was wrong. Something told me that I shouldn't have this power. The place in the wall where the panel had struck it was broken, and an angry red glow effused from it now accompanied by heat and steam. There was a cracking sound and then a gush of molten hot metal burst through the crack, droplets flinging around the flow. Distant droids watched, somehow knowing not to interfere.

 _Kill him_ , the voice urged. It didn't sound like me. This was not me. This was something else entirely, something insidious and bloodthirsty.

Something ancient and evil.

I backed away, my heart pounding. I felt that I would ignite, I felt so hot. It was too much for me. I felt feverish, dizzy, lighter than air, and the frightening, seductive voice was all the more difficult to resist with the pure power I felt flowing through me. I began to break the connection between us. When I saw that he breathed again, his chest heaving with desperate breaths as he was bent forward, I ran.

There was a surge of unmitigated power, and then the entire tunnel shook around us. The ceiling, already weakened, collapsed. A ton of rock and metal came crashing down behind me, ducts and tubes, severed, sparking and steaming as the entire section of tunnel caved in. I leapt and hit the ground hard, almost too late as a chunk of rock hit the floor.

As I scrambled to my feet and raced up the tunnel toward the utili-speeder, my mind was nearly blank with panic, my muscles burning with far too much power. Through the static, I thought I sensed the emotions of another. It felt distinctly like remorse, anger, and longing coiled into a tangled and inseparable mass. And then he closed me out and I couldn't sense him at all.

When I reached the speeder, I leapt upon it, wasting no time. I twisted the clutch on the handles and flew forward as quickly as the groaning turbine could move at full power. I needed to place as much distance between myself and Kylo Ren as I could before he decided to retaliate. Something told me he wouldn't, though it was not an assumption I wanted to stake my life upon.

As I speeded toward the surface, I forced my mind to empty of everything except for the memory of a dream, and the image of a black cave. I couldn't afford to think on anything else, though the memory of that voice haunted me.

Kylo Ren

It was some time before the dark figure standing before the collapsed section of tunnel moved. He stood, staring at it, even though he was expected elsewhere. He could have easily cleared the blockage, but he didn't.

Thoughts, chaotic as stormclouds, flew through his mind. Behind his mask, the shadows of many emotions passed over his face before it assumed something like placidity. He smoothed out his robes and lightly touched his neck with one gloved hand. The pain was gone as readily as though it had never existed, but for a lingering soreness of his neck muscles. He hadn't heard of such an application of the Force, but then she had constantly been an agent of the unexpected. _Her_ … a blade of pain pierced him and he forced himself to think of different matters.

He was sure that the partial destruction of this part of the base wouldn't go unnoticed, but it wasn't his problem. He felt a faint spike of pleasure when he thought of how the General would react when he doubtless learned of it.

He was overdue for his meeting. He spared a final glance back toward the pile of rock and between him and the other side of the vent tunnel before leaving. His master would not be pleased with his tardiness.

No other personnel said a word to him nor crossed his path. It seemed that the wave of grim purpose that preceded him was warning enough, even to those without sensitivity to the Force. He used that time to settle his nerves and consider what he would say to his Master.

He entered a dark, quiet part of the base where his lone footfalls echoed on rough-hewn rock walls, and then he stepped into a large, black room. He dreaded to see the massive figure already awaiting him on an ancient stone seat, illuminated from behind by a single light source.

"Kylo Ren," the figure spoke, his crackled, throaty voice filling the chamber as the man in black approached. "You are late."

"Forgive me," Kylo Ren responded quietly, knowing that this was not the time for excuses.

"The slave," the larger figure spoke then, a knowing expression on his serene, ancient face. "She has betrayed you."

Upon hearing the words, the man stood very still, but his hands, in subtle movement, belied his agitation. Of course he would know. But _how much_ did he know?

"Yes."

The giant's eyes, glistening in the dark, seemed to see through him.

"And yet she lives?"

"There is nowhere she can go," he said quickly, using words he'd prepared ahead of time. "It will be a simple matter to find her... and she might still be of use to us."

Everything about her developing abilities came to his lips, her potential uses, her connection to Starkiller Base's inherent Force concentration, but none found voice. She had caught him off guard and used it against him. A Snoke sat back slightly, fixing the diminutive man before him with a gentle, yet probing stare, he felt that all of his thoughts were open to him and shame rose up inside of him. The large ghostly figure became still and the lids dropped leaving only a sliver of the milky white orbs visible.

"You disappoint me, knight."

The black mask gazed up, doing his best to contain his remorse. "I tried to do as you asked. Teach her. And learn. "

"You have learned _nothing_."

The smaller figure was taken aback. This was not how he expected this conversation to go. "Master, I don't understand."

"I let you keep her," his Master said, speaking slowly, calmly, patiently, "so that you might make the choice to overcome the weakness in your blood. You should have ended her life long before now. I knew that she would tempt you with idle amusement. With false purpose," he said, suddenly closer. "And with _power_."

The man in the black mask looked down, remorse burning. He knew everything. His chest rose and fell with his breaths.

"She _was_ a test," he stated, his vocoder-warbled voice neutral.

She'd been right all along.

"All things are." Snoke sat back again.

The knight looked up again, keeping a steady grip on the pain he felt burrowing into his chest. His plans didn't matter. What he knew of her abilities didn't matter. She didn't matter to Snoke, that much was clear, and this information would make no difference, despite his thoughts. There was only one thing to say at this moment.

"I won't fail you again. I will find her."

The giant seemed to consider this.

"Of that I have no doubt," he said finally. "But already too much time has been wasted on her. There are matters of greater concern to me now than the fate of one defiant slave."

The door of the assembly chamber opened then, and a trim uniformed figure entered, his pale face firm. Hux was punctual as always. His swift, even boot falls sounded multiplied and sharp as they echoed.

The giant seemed to go perfectly still, watching the newcomer's journey from the far end with mute and unreadable focus. The two men did not acknowledge one another. Nor did they react in any way but for a tightening of the officer's jaw and the subtle twitch of the knight's black gloved hand. Outwardly, they were both professional and deliberately calm, though being in his presence after what they'd done together tested both of their composures. This was no time for petty disagreements.

It wasn't until the men stood side to side that Snoke addressed them both.

"This is a dark day for the First Order," he said. Neither man broke gazes from their leader towering over them, all but blocking out the single source of light behind him.

"The droid will soon be delivered to the Resistance… leading them to the last Jedi. If Skywalker returns, the new Jedi will rise…"

As Hux turned to leave, his mind on the task before him, Kylo Ren turned back to face his Master.

"There has been an awakening. Have you felt it?" His voice was softer now, satisfied with Hux's humility and solution.

"Yes," Kylo Ren responded quietly. He'd felt it. At first, he thought it had come from her. But she'd already experienced her coming of power… and it had been a minor event compared to the one of which his Master spoke. The one who'd had it could one day prove to be a complication. Though considering that he'd done everything he could to lessen the risk, it had been too little, too late. He would not make this mistake again. He would not repeat many of his mistakes.

"There's something more," Snoke said then, pulling Kylo Ren from his thoughts. "The droid we seek is aboard the Millennium Falcon… in the hands of your father, Han Solo."

At the name, a jolt of shock coursed through him, a thousand images and memories tied to the name. He recovered quickly, as well as he was able.

"He means nothing to me."

"Even you, master of the Knights of Ren, have never faced such a test."

"By the grace of your training, I will not be seduced," he said with steely resolve. He would not fail again.

"We shall see," he murmured gently with a hint of irony. "We shall see."

Kylo Ren didn't seem to notice the tone of his last words. Brimming with renewed purpose and resolve, swept out of the assembly chamber, no longer thinking on the matter of his former student.


	41. The Call of Ilum

The utili-speeder bike beneath me strained to keep up with my demands for haste as I struggled to get to terms with what I'd just done. Wind whistled around the stormtrooper helmet, the air current much stronger when in motion. My blood was singing with power. The tunnel's utility lighting system, damaged in the cave-in, was dark but for the occasional feeble flicker, but it didn't matter; my Darksight was more vivid than it had ever been. At least without assistance.

 _I should not have been able to overcome him_ , my feverish mind insisted.

I could sense the humans moving about in the base on either side of me. As my vehicle traveled upward along the length of the thermal regulator exhaust vent, tiny, brief flickers of emotion bombarded my awareness like insects against a windscreen. I felt the surfaces of the base around me clearly enough. It was stronger where there was bare rock, more subdued where manmade structures dominated. They felt like dark wounds marring otherwise healthy flesh.

 _I should not have been able to overcome him._

I never thought I would be able to wield such power. Kylo Ren himself had repeatedly reminded me of my shortcomings and the limits of my abilities. And truly, the power was entirely alien; by some trick of the Force, I'd tapped into the raw power of Ilum itself in my moment of need. Without it, I might be standing, or laying before Snoke right now. I still couldn't believe that I'd managed to throw off the spell of sleep the Inquisitor-Commander had cast over me. One moment I was awake and readying for an attack, and the next, I simply wasn't. He'd so elegantly demonstrated the incredible control he had over the Force.

After failing to convince me, to seduce me into following him, he tried to take me by force. What kind of man would do such a thing? He was a loaded weapon, dangerous to the galaxy for as long as he lived and for as long as Snoke directed his aim. Much good might have come from his death. So much future pain and suffering potentially averted. I'd almost killed him, too. Almost. That voice, the cold hiss coming from the shadowy regions of my brain, was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. When I'd had him on his knees and gasping for breath, I'd _wanted_ him to die for all that he'd done and all that he might do. The sinister whisper had appealed to my darkest desires of revenge. And it had almost swayed me to fulfill that desire.

I felt an icy shiver rise up my back and I couldn't tell if it were due to the chill air or my unease with being touched by a force I didn't understand. It had felt like evil itself, ruthless and devising, had spoken to me.

But I had also learned something from it. I now knew, without doubt, that Kylo Ren was not the true enemy. He was only the symptom of a far greater problem, and that problem was Supreme Leader Snoke, and whatever dark power he answered to.

As I drew nearer to the surface, the temperature dropped steadily. A pale, cold light shone up ahead and I pulled to a stop.

The end of the tunnel was capped by a thin metal mesh, but was otherwise open to daylight. I dismounted, the utili-speeder's heated turbine engine creaking in its casing, and tested the grating with some measured thwacks of my fists. It gave with little effort. Clearly it was meant more to keep pests, like snow rats, out, than to keep anyone in. After all, I thought with a bemused smirk, what slave or escaped prisoner would be stupid enough to try and find refuge on the surface of this icy planet without the means to leave it?

I climbed back into the seat and walked the bike back a few yards. And then I gunned it, slamming the barrier head-on and at full speed. There was a loud, echoing crack upon impact and a jarring jerk of my head, and the speeder tore through to the other side. The screen was stronger than I'd expected; the repulsor claw at the front broke off at the joint and now dangled to the side, exuding a thin line of smoke from the broken conduits and the smell of melted plastisteel.

On the other side, I pulled back behind the wall, taking a moment to get my bearings. I let my eyes adjust to the sudden bright light. The rest of my senses needed to get a handle on the experience of being outside on the surface of the planet, really, for the first time with my feet actually on the ground.

Everywhere I looked was covered in snow shone in the sunlight, and sparkled with the Force, and the chill, biting air carried with it a frigid reminder of the inhospitable nature of the planet's surface. There was little wind now. As still as the air was, sounds seemed to carry across the landscape, and the audible signs of life somewhere far behind me reminded me why I was there.

The tunnel's exit was built into the side of a chunk of solid brown rock. Past it to the south and across a smooth plain of untouched snow was the exterior of the flooding tunnels, an ancillary failsafe if the base needed to migrate to a warmer star system. Craggy cliffs and rocky hills dominated the landscape, and an artificially straight channel cut the land to the east in two, steam billowing into the frosty air from within. To the west, the land met an abrupt line of cliff faces that seemed to go on for miles. Giant black spider-like maintenance droids made their ponderous, automated way over the landscape. They were distant enough for now, but I wanted to make sure I stayed well out of their sights. In between the hills and cliffs was a dip, a good enough path to pass through, and straight ahead of me to the north, the distant mountain peaks, wreathed in cloud, beckoned.

I felt a dizzying wave of recognition when I looked upon them, and for a brief, disorienting moment, I thought I might be dreaming again.

I jumped back onto the utili-speeder and wasted no more time, racing forward, gliding above the snow and around crags and hills until the base was well behind. The utili-speeder was not designed with this kind of environment in mind, and its turbine engines made a troubling groan any time it dipped over the uneven ground and kicked up snow, sucking it into the turbines.

It seemed that the utili-speeder was not built with speed in mind either, ironically. Though I was able to navigate my way through the outcroppings and jagged hills, I couldn't seem to make it go any faster. The longer I stayed out in the open air, the more chilled I became until I felt that my body heat was all but leeched away, stolen by the unrelenting wind as it pummeled through the cracks in my armor plating. It didn't take long for me to realize why snow troopers were given special envirosuits.

The mountains loomed near and as the bike descended down a gentle escarpment, I couldn't help but appreciate the cold, savage beauty of the land. Apart from the occasional radio tower and the distant spider droids whose proximity I maintained a healthy distance from, the landscape was pristine and untouched. I could see forest growing atop the cliffs to the west stretching for unbroken miles. So serene and desolate it was, enough that I found it difficult to believe that there might have once been a thriving ecosystem before the First Order chose to use it.

Did Supreme Leader Snoke actually know the power that Ilum contained? Or had his choice been more for the symbolic corruption of what had once been a Jedi mecca? Something told me that Snoke knew something of its uses, yet Kylo Ren had thought that my unique connection with it might improve his Master's opinion of me.

Even now, chilled to the core, I could feel that my blood was singing with the power of it. Every once in a while, I could sense periodic rapid, flickering points of energy beneath the snow, solitary signs of life amidst an outwardly inhospitable land. What I sensed could only belong to the last known remaining native species of animal still living: snow rats. I didn't see them, but I felt them there. Their presence gave me hope. I remembered how I'd once thought to look to them for inspiration, for if they could somehow survive, I could too.

The mountain range grew ever larger, the smooth rolling hills giving way to sharp, rocky stacks and points. Picking a clear path became more difficult and more than once I had to backtrack some to circumvent an impassable feature.

It was about that time that I felt it.

Something felt strange, like vibrations in the air coming from somewhere far beneath me. The distant jagged mountains grew until they dominated my sight, but despite the proximity of my destination, I felt the hackles begin to rise on the back of my neck. The feeling only grew stronger and with it my feeling of deep dread.

The wind changed suddenly, unnaturally. Though I maintained a constant speed, it was now at my back and I found that it seemed that the sound of the wind rushing by my head had died down and the bike moved marginally faster.

With eerie timing, there came a sharp crackle of static in my ears. The comms in my helmet were coming to life for some reason, though I'd thought them deactivated as I'd heard nothing since my last conversation with Phasma. I heard a voice that was almost unrecognizable beneath layers of interference.

 _"General Hux will now address the assembly, the fleet, and the Council,"_ the voice crackled. I almost swerved into a boulder when I heard his name before I regained control of the vehicle and of my senses. Though my fingers were numb, I felt the tingle of my nerve endings in my palm as I held the handlebars in a tense grip.

 _"Today is the end of the Republic,"_ Hux's voice rang in my ears.

Dread sank to the bottom of my stomach like a lead weight in water.

 _"The end of a regime that acquiesces to disorder."_

The utilispeeder crested over the edge of a dramatic dip in the landscape and plunged down the other side.

" _At this very moment, in a system far from here, the New Republic_ lies _to the galaxy,"_ he said, the pitch of his words rising with barely restrained hatred. _"While secretly supporting the treachery of the loathsome Resistance._ "

The hairs on my arms stood on end. I'd never heard General Hux sound like this. It frightened me to the core.

 _"This fierce machine which you have built, upon which we stand, will bring an end to the Senate! To their cherished fleet!"_

"No, Hux," I whispered fervently as the meaning of his words hit. As my utili-speeder began to make the final ascent, I could see ahead a dark indentation above me. The cave of my dreams.

 _"All remaining systems will_ bow _to the First Order!"_ _He was almost screaming now._ _"And will remember this... as the_ last _day of the Republic!"_

I felt that the very rock beneath was shuddering, quaking, but perhaps it was just me. The sound, like a hum on a frequency just at the bottom range of my hearing, was starting to set my teeth on edge.

I felt the flow of the Force, of the entire planet, become disrupted, throttled by the mounting power of the Starkiller Superweapon. The utili-speeder's repulsor engines whined as it climbed, not intended to traverse inclines so steep, but I pushed it on, my destination within reach. Just a little further… Then-

 _"Fire!"_

I didn't have time to prepare. Everything turned red a millisecond later, there was the hellish sound of natural law itself being torn asunder; a screaming, roaring explosion of incomprehensible magnitude.

A piercing blade of pure, fiery agony split my skull in half. My vision blanked. I lost control of the speeder, ramming it into the side of the mountain. The next thing I knew, I was laying face half-down in the snow while the eye that was unobstructed bore mute, helpless witness to General Hux's Superweapon.

A crimson gash pierced the heavens themselves, a whirl of clouds expanding rapidly where the beam broke the atmospheric barrier.

The entirety of the white landscape was now drenched in red.

I'd seen this before. The snow, stained by an eruption of blood from wound that wouldn't close.

In the distance, a white wall seemed to be moving toward me. Taller than anything around it, it consumed everything in its path. The shockwave. The weapon severed the beam of light, but the titanic shockwave thrown into the air by the force of the blast continued to rush toward me.

I scrambled to my feet, banging my cold-numbed hand against unforgiving rock in my panic, and into the mouth of the cave just as the wind preceding the tidal wave of snow hit me.

The rest of it slammed the mountainside a moment later with a deafening roar. An explosion of blinding snow poured into the mouth of the cave. The force of it impacted me like a freighter.

I was thrown backwards, tumbling end over end until my body hit a wall. I curled into a ball as I was bombarded with a torrent of wind and snow. After the initial blast, I lay there and focused on breathing until it the shockwave had passed, and then I remained still for a few more minutes.

My ears rang but I could still hear the whistling of wind by the mouth of the cave continue for some time. My head was in agony, and even after I regained a sense of up and down, I had to wait for the piercing ache to subside enough that I could move. I shifted beneath the mound of snow that had blown onto me.

My feet and hands, legs and arms all seemed to be working. My left hand, the one that I'd banged against the rock in my hurry to escape the shockwave, was entirely numb. It was disconcerting, but that fact that I'd managed to escape with nothing aside from some minor bruising and a headache was incredible. Moving with great care, I pushed myself into an upright sitting position, shoveling the snow away from myself before it could melt and soak into my under armor. I felt for my blades. Still attached.

I was sitting just inside the mouth of the cave now. Stalactites of ice formed teeth within the entrance and beneath the loose snow on the floor I could see a layer of ice coating every surface. The wind from outside persisted, though now it whistled softly.

I looked around. Behind me and to my left, the cave continued after a drop, the furthest point of it lost to darkness.

I tried to sense what might lay beyond, but I was struck with a sudden surge of pain in my skull and a ringing in my ears the moment I tried to reach out with my Force perception. I ripped off my helmet, clutching the sides of my head until the pain receded. I wasn't going to try that again. It seemed that something had happened to me when the superweapon had discharged.

I could feel the cold air on my bare face, irritating the raw skin of my cheek, I could taste the coppery flavor of old blood in my otherwise dry mouth, but I couldn't sense anything through my connection to the Force, and at least for now I didn't wish to experience the headache and try again.

Dully, I scooped some fallen snow into my mouth to alleviate my thirst and the sour taste in my mouth. I shivered when the cold seeped down inside of me. I could taste the grit of dirt that had gotten mixed in with the snow, but I didn't care. I hugged my arms close, rocking gently.

The ringing in my ears began to subside. But now there was something else. Something that wasn't quite a sound.

I turned back toward the dark recesses. It seemed to be coming from there.

I attempted to stand but my legs wobbled. I grabbed onto the wall before my feet slipped out from under me entirely. A throbbing ache in my temples surged and I clenched my eyes until it receded. I watched the thick, white clouds of vapor puff into the air with each breath and dissipate until I felt that I could try again.

My second try was more successful, and like a newborn learning to walk, I took my first steps forward.

Shaking off thoughts of what might be there in the darkness unseen and unsensed by me, I moved to the slope leading deeper into the cave, leaving the helmet on the ground.

I passed beneath an arch and around a corner where I was enveloped in oppressive, cold blackness.

I picked my way carefully along, feeling blindly along the walls and measuring each step to avoid slipping on the icy rock.

Memories of the endless labyrinthine asteroid mines in Pressy's Tumble flickered through my mind in an unrelenting barrage.

Almost accidentally, I tried to use the Force to help me find my way. I was rewarded with a sudden stab of pain in my left temple and a ringing in my ears that eclipsed the not-sound that I was inexplicably drawn to.

I had to stop, squatting on the cold cave floor holding my head as I waited for the pain to pass.

Had the Superweapon done this? The agony I'd felt when that power was released was beyond anything I'd ever experienced before. I thought it would tear me apart, and I wasn't sure that I could survive another. Not while my connection to Starkiller Base was so strong. To my relief, the pain passed as well as the ringing, and the thing that was not quite a sound returned. I focused on it, tamping down the fear biting at the back of my throat.

I couldn't tell how many minutes passed in that manner. Steadily, I picked my way with agonizing care and caution, hyper alert to every noise, every creak of rock or distant buffeting of wind audible even here.

Disconcerting squeaks and scratching could be heard echoing from the depths, and I mouthed the words 'snow rat' over and over in a self-soothing litany against unknown creatures of darkness lurking just beyond arm's reach. It was helping, but still, fear was creeping up and down my spine.

Monsters were not what I needed to worry about. I was blind here, helpless. All it would take is one false step, one misjudged stride, and I might sprain my ankle or break a leg. Such misfortune would guarantee a death alone and cold in the dark, never to be found or heard from again. I thought of the helmet laying abandoned far behind me inside the mouth of the cave. My teeth had begun to chatter in bursts, and it wasn't from the cold.

I focused more intently on the not-sound.

It seemed stronger now, closer. I was being called and something about the very nature of the call seemed to soften my mindless terror some.

I advanced deeper into the darkness, grateful that apart from some boulders and rubble that I was able to avoid by stepping cautiously, the floor was mostly smooth. Still, progress was slow and treacherous. And then, I noticed that the ground wasn't so slippery. The air, too, had less of a bite to it this far down. I realized with a swell of hope that I wasn't imagining things; the air was growing warmer, and moister.

I knew I was getting close, but my anticipation and urgency became mingled with disappointment when I seemed to meet an impassable wall. I felt along it, above my head and below until I was utterly sure that I'd reached a dead end.

I groaned, backed into a wall and slid down it, cradling my face in the dark. If I hadn't been so exhausted, I might have cried.

A sound interrupted my indulgence in self-pity. I held my breath and listened. There it was, the sound of running water. Crawling on hands and knees, I pressed my face against the cool, damp rock wall that seemed to be blocking my way. Sounds traveled through the solid material, but I could hear it clearly enough. There was running water. Somehow I knew that my destination lay just on the other side of the wall. But how would I get there?

I felt around more carefully. There, at the base of the wall, was a mound of loose rock. I moved some aside, and a single, hair-fine crack of light shone through.

I sucked in a breath and attacked the loose rocks, throwing them behind me. More and more light filtered through until I'd managed to clear an opening. Enough light, indirect as it was, came through that I could see again. I thanked the daylight more ardently than I ever had before. It was almost as if I'd already forgotten it existed, as though I would be trapped in unrelenting darkness forever.

I dropped to my belly to peer through the hole. I could see light ahead, beneath the rock, and pushed myself forward, but the armor was too bulky. I cleared away more rocks and tried again. I managed to get a little bit further before I found myself stuck.

It was a tight fit, tight enough that my armor was hindering my way. For a moment I lay there, I breathed the warm, moist air current coming through from the other side. The sounds of falling water was louder. I was so close to… what?

I needed to know.

I stripped down to my body suit and boots, piling the rest of the armor plating on the floor, and dropped back down onto my stomach. I began to worm my way through the opening, bare hands grasping rock and pulling me forward.

It occurred to me, once I was almost entirely underneath the wall, that the blockage was actually the product of a cave-in. Countless tons of rock seemed to weigh down on me as I squirmed and writhed my body like a serpent, as I strained and dragged myself inch by inch toward the light ahead.

I preferred small spaces to large, open ones, but the crawl beneath that collapsed rock pushed my resolve to its limits. I forced myself not to think about how unstable it likely was, how easily my body would be crushed.

When I felt the open air, I dug my fingers into an indentation in the rocky floor ahead of me and emerged, panting and sweaty, on the other side, happy to be out of the hole.

When I looked to see where I was, I lost all capacity for coherent thought.

The cavern was huge.

Shafts of light from far, far above cut through the darkness, moisture in the air giving them solid form. Those, and the faint whistling of wind from above, suggested that the surface was nearer than I might have assumed. The source of the light was at least a dozen meters up, however, not a viable exit or entrance unless I had a way to avoid plummeting to the floor below. I pulled myself to my feet and brushed myself off, my mouth hanging open.

The sound of flowing water was coming from a waterfall gushing over a rock ledge on the opposite side of the cavern. Judging by the steam coming from it, it was warm. The water dropped a few meters below into wide, shallow depression in the floor, itself at least a dozen meters across. The water was clear where the light pierced its surface, and I could see that it was not so deep.

But truly, what arrested my attention was that everywhere the light touched, I was met with the sight of a dazzling array of reflected light that glittered. Crystal formations of all shapes, sizes, and color erupted from the glistening stone surfaces of the chamber's interior, heedless of orientation to the ground.

A cluster of polyhedral crystals, the largest nearly the size of my forearm, jutted sideways from the wall beside the hole I'd crawled through. Others like it could be seen elsewhere. I touched one of them with my bare hand, wondering at its smooth face.

I could see smaller sprays of fine, hair-like crystals sprouted in pinkish bunches along the floor and along seams in the stone walls, appearing so fragile that an errant breath might disintegrate them. Cubic growths as black as ichor rippled along the walls, splitting the rocky surface in swathes, taking a shape that I'd never before seen in the natural world. Mineral stalactites hung from the ceiling, moisture glistening on their rough surfaces, their twin stalagmites reaching up from the floor beneath. Even they were marked by tiny glinting facets of a mineral amalgamate of some kind.

Here and there I could see small, solitary crystals the size of fingertips and as clear as glass. When seen next to the others, they were unremarkable. Perhaps an untrained eye might overlook them, but these formations grabbed my attention. I knew, based on my studies, that these small, unremarkable prisms were actual kyber crystals.

I'd managed to find one of Ilum's fabled kyber crystal caves. Sealed as it was from the outside by the collapsed rock, I wondered when was the last time anyone had laid eyes upon it. It felt like I'd stumbled upon a secret, a sacred space.

The tinkling musical sound in my head had been steadily growing since I'd entered and could no longer ignore it. Now that I recognized where I was, I looked around for the source. It seemed to be coming from across the pool of water.

A shaft of sunlight touched the wall beside the waterfall and when I moved, I could see a single, tiny object glinting at me, almost as if I'd been meant to come here to this exact place at this exact time of day when the angle of the sun was just right so that it might bring my attention to it.

I slowly stepped up to the edge of the water and crouched. Moving my hands through it, I could tell that it was indeed slightly warm.

A ring of orange mineral deposits marked the edge of the water. From my vantage point, I could see that there were some crystal growths beneath the water, but apart from that, the floor seemed to slope smoothly down toward the back of the cavern.

I gave it a brief moment of thought, brushed aside fears of toothy, water-dwelling beasts with a taste for blood, and peeled off my body glove, still reeking faintly. Naked, I stepped in.

I sighed in relief as soon as my feet were submerged in the wet warmth of the underground lake, and my legs followed soon after.

I found myself unable to resist the lure of the enveloping warmth and before long, the edge of the pool was far behind me. When the water level was up to my waist, I submerged myself in it. I dipped beneath, sweeping my hair back as I surfaced, running my fingers through it and working through the tangles.

I felt better than I had in days, and this was not the ecstasy I felt after siphoning energy from someone else, or a ground-shattering orgasm. This was the kind of bliss one might feel when the simple pleasure of a naked dip in a warm pool neutralized the worries of the world for a little while. I was smiling. I laughed suddenly, my utterance breaking the silence and echoing off of the walls. And then I breathed deep, filling my lungs with the moist, faintly sulfuric air. I washed my body clean of sweat and garbage residue.

I moved deeper, testing the depth carefully with each step. I thought I might be able to swim well enough to keep from drowning, but I didn't want to create unnecessary risks by letting go of caution entirely.

Apart from the sharp drop surrounding the base of the waterfall, it seemed that the deepest part of the pool only reached my neck, where the back of the cavern rose at a sharp angle toward the ledge above.

From here, I peered up at the kyber crystal I'd spotted before, absently swirling the water between my fingers. This close, I could see its cloudy white coloration illuminated by the shaft of pale sunlight. It was small, the size of the last joint of my little finger, and it was a wonder that I'd seen it at all. It jutted, a solitary prism forming from the rock itself.

I remembered the legends and the history surrounding these stones. Jedi masters would bring their apprentices, their padawans, to caves such as these so that they might find the kyber crystal that could be built into their lightsaber. Supposedly, the crystals chose their Jedi, not the other way around. The natural question in my mind was, what about Force-users that were not Jedi? This crystal was undeniably calling to me, Jedi or not. I wondered if the specifics of the Jedi belief system didn't matter.

The not-sound in my head was almost akin to chimes moving in a breeze and brushing softly against the inside of my skull. The crystal itself was out of reach, but beneath it the floor rose above the water. I pulled myself out of the water and stood atop the rock.

My hand severed the shaft of sunlight as I moved to touch it with my fingers.

The moment I touched the cool, smooth surface of the crystal, I felt a rush of sounds like wind and voices and flashing light behind my lids and I jerked back, startled. The sounds and piercing flash of light ceased the moment my fingertip broke contact and I stumbled backwards, almost losing my balance and falling into the water. I regarded the kyber crystal warily. It glinted at me with deceptive innocence, inert as before.

While my pulse calmed, I looked around myself. Beside me, the water continued to pour steadily, churning the pool at impact, beating the surface relentlessly. I could hear the faint whistling of the wind from above and an external draft stirred the steam closer to the ceiling in the light into whirls and eddies.

I turned back toward the crystal and gathered my resolve. I was determined not to let go. But as before, I immediately felt a sharp invasion of noise and flashing light and this time, I fell back into the water, I emerged sputtering and coughing. My heart was pounding and my mind was working at a delay to process the jarring experience. I had heard what might be voices in the noise, and imagery in the flashes of light, but all jumbled together in an indecipherable influx of sensory information.

Disgruntled, I turned away from it, moving as swiftly as I could back to the pool's edge. I emerged from the water and sat down on the coarse bank. After some thought, I grabbed my body glove and pulled it into the water. Mutely, I began to wash it, emptying my mind of anything but the sudden need to cleanse the fabric.

I wrung it out and dragged it through the water repeatedly until I could no longer smell garbage on it when I held it up to my nose. When I was satisfied, I laid it out flat on the bank, but as humid as the air in here was, I wasn't convinced that it would ever dry completely.

The persistent tickling sensation in my mind eventually drew my eyes back to the crystal. By now, the shaft of sunlight had shifted slightly so that the light caught the edge of the crystal, casting a prismatic array of colors behind it.

My eyes narrowed as my mind worked to address the problem. I wasn't going to touch it again, that was certain. What, then? A thought came to me. I could meditate on it, but the memory of the headache and ringing in my ears made me hesitate to do anything related to my Force sensitivity.

But unless I intended to die here, I had to leave the refuge eventually. And ultimately, I wasn't going to leave without my kyber.

I made my way back toward it. I climbed onto the coarse surface that rose out of the water beneath it and, sparing it one final look, I closed my eyes. A faint ringing warned me. I ignored it and instead listened to the churning, bubbling water. I steadied my breaths, calming my heart.

There, in the back of my mind, the musical, tinkling sound grew stronger. I focused on it and stilled any other thoughts. I could already feel the beginnings of the pain in my temples. The ringing in my ears grew sharper, but I persisted, clenching my eyes shut and furrowing my brows tightly.

The sonorous cacophony swelled to a crescendo in my head, and it seemed that my skull might crack under the pressure. I clenched my jaw and pushed through it.

There was a flash of red behind my eyelids and suddenly the pain, and the sound, was gone.

Like clearing a blockage, I felt the Force flow through me like a coursing river. I felt the kyber crystal before me. I could hear it clearly now and it sang in crystalline, dulcet tones.

The sounds of the cavern receded.

A crackling of flames grew more prominent until I had to turn around to find its source.

I was standing in the cave, but not the one beneath the surface of Starkiller base. This was the one from my vision.

In the center of the stony hollow, a fire flickered, casting shadows all around me. I looked through the tongues of flame.

There, seated on the other side, was the old woman. Her long, white hair hung over her wrinkled, naked body like a cape, locks tangled and plaited with strips of leather and beaded with bones.

She was rocking slightly, her lips shaping words I couldn't hear. I stepped closer and discovered that the fire did not give off any heat.

The flames cast strange shadows upon her face, like lines etched into her skin. Her hair hung over her eyes. I had returned to this place somehow. Was I dreaming? Or had I somehow found the true location of the strange, firelit cave? But when I looked around myself, the edges of the visible area shimmered and wavered irresolutely, as though my current existence were a fragile thing. I looked back at the woman, who didn't seem to notice me.

"Hello?"

She froze. And then she looked directly at me. I stopped breathing.

A cloth strip covered her eyes. She was blind. Beneath the strip of cloth, her wrinkled face was lined with dark markings that I had first mistaken as shadow. Thorny, hooked designs that enhanced the lines of her thin lips, her hollow cheeks, her long, sharp nose. She didn't look away, and she didn't answer.

After a moment, she began rocking again. Her mouth split into a smile, the paper thin skin of her face stretching, the black lines distorting her expression into an exaggeration of mirth.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice sounding strange to my ears. "Where am I?"

She didn't answer. The pace of her rocking movements only grew faster and her smile widened further. Then she began to laugh. It was low at first, a rasping, coughing sound, her mouth opening. I could see gapped teeth between her lips. They were pink and webbed with dark blood. Her red tongue glistened wetly in her aged maw, her entire body quaked.

I drew back in horror and the floor tipped sideways beneath me.

Gravity righted itself and I was somewhere else. I faced forward and found myself peering at two other figures. A maelstrom of grey haze surrounded us so that their image was the only thing I could see, and I found myself moving closer.

A young woman, pale and beautiful, spoke to a cloaked figure whose back was turned toward me. I opened my mouth to ask them who they were, but something about her small, furtive mannerisms suggested that I was intruding upon something private. Despite myself, I didn't look away.

Her long, silvery hair was neat and plaited with long strips of black leather. No bones were threaded in her locks, and I was momentarily taken aback by my notice of their absence. Was this woman and the old crone one and the same? Indeed, dark markings, like the tattoos of the old woman, lined her youthful face. I could see now how they enhanced her features and her sharp brows. She was speaking to the cloaked figure with her gaze lowered demurely before she looked up at him once more beneath hooded lids, revealing large, pale eyes.

Her gaze flashed.

Almost immediately, the hooded figure raised its arm toward her and I could now see a white, masculine hand bearing a large, ornate ring. His palm stroked her cheek in an unmistakably intimate gesture. She turned her face to the side, nuzzling the hand.

Suddenly, she was looking right at me. I stepped back, startled… but just as quickly, she was hidden from view as the black-cloaked man moved in close to her, and I couldn't be sure that I hadn't imagined it.

The world twisted and churned and turned inside out.

What had appeared to be the beginnings of an embrace was now a battle between two distant figures. Green and red flashed as the figures, one in black, one dressed in grey, fought fiercely on a green cliff side.

Sounds, vibratory, electric cracks rode the wind as it whipped around us and the pair of lightsabers sparked, bright against the grey, stormy sky. Their sharp strikes echoed toward me over the sound of crashing waves.

And then I recognized the figure in black. I knew his shape even without seeing his unique cross-guarded red lightsaber. The other, an older bearded man whom I'd never seen before, was holding his own against his assailant, for it was clear who was attacking whom, deflecting each strike with ease born of great wisdom.

Movement out of the corner of my eye made me turn. I saw the figure of a young woman running away down the green hillside. She was being pursued by others in heavy black armor and helmets, wielding brutal weapons. Her brown hair was frayed from its loopy up-do and her face was red as she glanced behind her.

The intensity in her eyes rocked me to my core, even from this distance, but there was no way she would be able to defend against multiple assailants. I ran after her.

My next step met empty air and my equilibrium was lost as I pitched forward. Voices echoed in the darkness.

 _You can't escape fate… you can't run from destiny…_

 _Riala…_

"Where are you?" I called out to the nothing, but my voice fell flat.

An image resolved before me, solitary in the darkness. Two figures meeting in the night, their bodies cloaked. A dark forest surrounded us. One of them held a large bundle. I could see its contents squirming, hear the sound of an infant crying.

 _"Keep her safe,"_ a hushed voice said. _"You cannot escape the fate that lies ahead of you. But you can protect hers."_

Hesitantly, one of the figures reached out and the other passed to bundle to her.

I began to move toward them to see more clearly what was inside of the bundle, but the closer I came, the further the vision stretched ahead of me until I was running after it. Despite my efforts, it shrank down to nothingness.

I fell to my knees, gasping.

When I looked up, my blood went cold.

There, sitting before me on a throne of stone, was Supreme Leader Snoke.

He appeared much smaller than he had when I last saw him, but instead of alleviating my nerves, it set them alight. For I knew that I was looking at the real being behind the hologram, and I still had to look up at him. His aged, deformed face peered into mine, his rheumy eyes looking at me, through me.

 _You have returned…_ a male voice said, though it was not his.

I fell back in fear, tried to get away, my hand flying to my mouth to choke the scream that threatened to break from my lips.

Heavy footsteps approached from behind me, but I couldn't bring myself to look away from those cold, ancient eyes. Figures moved forward from the shadowy background behind him. I was surrounded.

I heard the sound of a lightsaber flaring to life behind me, the vibrant buzz and crackle of energy made my heart leap into my throat and I turned to face…

A solitary figure, a woman, sitting upon a bench in a dingy, dark durasteel cell.

The details of her features were hidden in shadow, though I could see that her hands were pale. She was looking down and cradling her swollen belly. She was pregnant, and by the looks of it, approaching the end of her term. What was she doing here?

A door opened behind me and light poured in. She looked up, but not at me. She was looking to the figure behind me. I peered over my shoulder and saw… my father.

He was dressed in the crisp uniform of a highly-ranked Imperial technician, and he appeared so very young, scarcely older than FN-2187. It was enough to make me doubt my own eyes. But there was the same umber brown skin, strong nose, full lips, serious, expressive brows, and large, jet black eyes peering from beneath the uniform cap.

His handsome face was looking past me at the woman in the cell, his mouth open slightly in wonder, broad shoulders partially blocking the light.

" _Please_ ," she said, and I knew that voice. Shudders passed through me.

It was the voice of my mother. Slowly, I turned back to face her.

She was standing now, her belly visible in the light, her face still in shadow. " _I can't have him here, they'll kill him. Please._ "

Alarms sounded. I turned back to the doorway, but the younger version of my father was gone and I was somewhere else.

I was inside of Starkiller Base. First Order officers and other personnel rushed by me. I could hear distant blasterfire and the sounds of screams and shouts.

 _"The slaves are revolting!"_

 _"Who cares, the entire planet is collapsing!"_

I ran forward, my legs moving quickly until I was flying through the corridors away from the possibility of safety and deeper into the base. Figures passed me in a blur, and in fact everything was out of focus but for the path directly ahead of me. Soon the alarms were all I could hear.

I was almost there…

Everything blanked out in a flash of light as bright as a thousand suns, burning through my eyelids as though they were tissue paper.

The alarms faded into a single, clear note.

The light faded.

 _"Come back to me,"_ a voice whispered, and the tone, and all other sounds, vanished with it.

I blinked. I looked around myself.

I was back in the crystal cave, seated upon the rock beside the waterfall.

Wind whistled distantly above me, and the steady drip-drip of water echoed, but a dreamlike haze seemed to have settled on everything.

It was then that I realized that I was holding something warm and small in my cupped hands.

I looked down. There, cradled in my curved palms, was the kyber crystal. I had no memory of standing and retrieving it. It glowed with a bright silver light, but as I watched it, the light rapidly grew dim.

When the glow was gone entirely, I held it above me in the shaft of sunlight. With the white light shining through it, the color of the crystal appeared a cloudy, pearlescent grey.

Words echoed in my mind. Something I'd read. _The color of the crystal aligns with the one that wields it._

I smoothed my thumb over the prism's facets, feeling every ridge and corner, memorizing its unique shape.

I needed to puzzle over the vision, but it had left me with an uncomfortable, distressed feeling.

Time was short.

With careful slowness, I dismounted from the boulder, holding the crystal tightly in my hands. Joints throughout my body cracked, loud in the empty space. My muscles were sore with disuse.

How long had I been like that? The daylight filtering down from above informed me only of the time of day, not the passage of time.

For all I knew, it could have been days. My hair, which had been slicked back with water before, was now nearly dry, though with the moisture in the air, I had no way of knowing how long it had been since I'd first sat down to meditate.

Holding the crystal in one hand and keeping my hair out of the water with the other, I soaked my sore joints in the warm water up to my neck until I felt myself limber up. And then I moved to the edge of the pool. The body glove, laying where I'd left it, was now almost completely dry despite the humidity.

I dressed myself, lost in thought, and gathered my things before casting one final look at the chamber. If I heeded what my vision showed me, I knew that it was fully possible that this was the last time I, and perhaps anyone, would ever look upon the likes of this place ever again. Taking in the nearly sacred stillness, I felt a pang of sadness. And then I dropped to my stomach and crawled through the opening beneath the collapsed rock.

I reattached my white armor, closed the crystal securely into the pouch on my belt, and then made my way back toward the entrance. My journey back was far easier this time around. A tentative testing of my Darksight revealed that whatever had been stopping me before was gone, my Force-related abilities had returned to me. With my Force awareness, I was able to navigate the twists and turns of the tunnel back to the outside.

Despite my better judgment, I was going to have to return to the base. There, I might be able to stow away on a ship and escape whatever fate had in store for this arctic planet, for I had no doubt that Starkiller Base was doomed, as were any that remained on it at the time of its destruction.

The vision nagged at me, though; in it, as in all of the dreams I'd had before, I was running deeper into the base, not toward a hangar. I was trying to find someone.

A draft of air and a pale, cold light told me that I neared the mouth of the cave.

I stepped around a corner and squinted my eyes against the stark brightness of the unfiltered daylight. I could see my discarded helmet partially covered by snow. At some point it had tumbled down the incline toward the deep caves. I was troubled by the thought that perhaps I'd been beneath the mountain for more than a day, perhaps even two. Was such a thing possible?

Brushing aside my thoughts, I picked the helmet up, dusted it off, and pulled it on. I began the slippery, icy ascent to the entrance.

There, I paused, my mouth agape. In the distance a line of fire seemed to be pouring down from the sky. Through a break in the solid ceiling of grey cloud cover, I could see that where the sun should have been a distant point of light, it was now being stretched like styro-taffy at a confectioner's and pulled into the Superweapon's eye. It was like the firing of the weapon, but in reverse, and I knew then that they were going to do it again.

I dislodged the utili-speeder from the snowdrift where I'd crashed it and tested its engines. To my relief, the turbines roared to life and the repulsors kicked on, blowing snow out from beneath. The bike rose steadily and maintained its hover. Apparently it had not been too badly damaged in the crash, though the broken servos in the repulsor claw at the front still tried to work despite being utterly destroyed.

Movement out of the corner of my eye grabbed my attention and I turned to see a small, white furry body running from the noise. A snow rat.

I watched it run into the mouth of the cave and disappear.

I heard an explosion in the distance, echoing across the pristine white wilderness and turned toward it. What now? No, it wasn't an explosion, it was the sound of a ship exiting hyperspace.

Impossible for it to sound so close.

I walked the idling bike into the right position and, tightening the throttle, shot forward and down the mountain slope, my eyes fixed on the shape of the base on the horizon and the line of fire reaching toward it.

* * *

Author's Note:

Alright, guys, we're coming down to the wire now. I've have this chapter fixed in my mind for a long time, and over a period of months, I managed to put together a playlist for spotify to get me in the right mood for writing it. It's mostly comprised of atmospheric chill-out music with some on-the-nose titles and artists that match the theme. Check out Crystal Cave if that sounds like something you would be interested in.

A huge thank you to all of the people who've been reading this epic work of fanfic from the beginning or, god forbid, from the *literal* beginning when I posted the first draft of the first chapter three days after seeing The Force Awakens for the first time, and a big hug to my fellow nerdy fangirl who helped me out of the mire of writer's block on multiple occasions. I didn't expect to see so much love and people invested in the fate of an OC.

Anyway, hold onto your butts, there's only one more chapter to go.

/user/cyberspacewitch/playlist/2WBhHDUe94BxYlReSeNEhL


	42. Death of a Starkiller

Author's Note: This is it, guys. Hold onto your butts.  
Song of, and the theme for this entire story, Atoms for Peace - Default.  
Lyrics at end so you can skip that (but if you listen to it, and read them, you might know why I chose it)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

* * *

I flew down the mountainside, holding the steering grips so tightly that my fingertips were beginning to lose feeling. All I could think about was leaving the planet. Not that I actually had a concrete plan to do so.

Through the cloud cover, I could just make out the bright line of sun fire on the horizon, and it troubled me. It was a monument to everything standing in my way.

Soon this system's sun would be another death to add to the tally. The name Starkiller had once seemed an abstract threat. Now the base was fulfilling that threat with horrific literality.

The voice of the General, familiar yet alien and frightening, echoed in my head. Hux, my slender, submissive plaything, the handsome officer with cold eyes. This same man would now forever be known as the harbinger of death to countless millions, perhaps billions, of sentients that had called the seat of the Republic home. I wondered if the pale, changeable color of those eyes had shone red in the light of the blast. I knew what he was capable of on a smaller scale: vicious diversions, callous ambitions, the assassination of a superior officer. But somehow, I wouldn't have thought him capable of the cold-blooded murder of an entire system.

I was naïve to think the superweapon he'd so adamantly championed would not see use, but perhaps I'd hoped that once built, the fear of the thing would prove more effective than its operation. I had no doubt that Snoke had given the order, perhaps to hedge some imminent attack. Hux had merely carried it out, and he had done so to perfection. Still, I could not reconcile the man I knew with the screaming sycophant that had given the order to fire.

There was a cold logic to it; take out the most powerful adversary and no others would dare to rise up against the war machine. Now, who was left?

My musings had at least served to distract me from the perilous descent. By the time the bike emerged from the other side of the highland valley, my under armor was damp from the chill fog that clung to the upper peaks. My skin burned from the cold barrage of air that slipped between the armored plates of my suit.

Tree-covered cliffs rose up from the highland landscape to the right, and dropped off to the eastern lowlands on my left.

My path lay straight ahead, back the way I'd come, toward the streak of sun fire. I descended into the basin between the cliffs. The bike carried me dutifully over jagged hills and smooth dips as the cliff faces to my right sloped downward, tall trees coming into view as the land dropped below the layer of mist.

Far ahead of me to the left, I could see a shape on the edge of the drop. It looked like… a ship.

I heard the scream of a projectile. A flash of heat on my back. And I was violently flung forward.

When I hit the ground, I rolled end over end before sliding to a breathless stop face down and entrenched in a pile of snow. My mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened. Had they found me?

Someone was approaching.

"You hit the bike, you old bishwag. Now we can't use it."

My first thought was that I'd been found by a snow patrol. But the voice was unfiltered, and the language… uncharacteristic. Without thinking, I tried to turn to look.

I heard what could have been the growl of a beast and I froze, forgetting to breathe, wondering if I would have a chance to see the one that would kill me.

"Still alive? What are you waiting for, shoot him!"

I heard that bestial sound again and I realized it sounded like speech in a language and format alien to my ears.

"Who _cares_ what kind of armor he's wearing?"

I heard an answering growl, followed by the approaching sound of ponderous, heavy footfalls. A moment later, something hard, a foot, nudged me in my side and I didn't resist as I was rolled onto my back. Towering above me was the owner of the foot. I'd never seen a wookiee in person before, but its shaggy-coated appearance was unmistakable. It was much taller than I expected and it was armed with a type of weapon I'd never seen before.

There was another of those guttural groans and I saw a flash of teeth. The wookiee gestured with a free hand. I tried to rub my eyes and instead hit my helmet. Of course, I looked like a stormtrooper.

"Fine then, _I'll_ do it."

"Wait! I'm not a soldier," I said suddenly, my voice coming out as a croak from disuse, my throat dry from exertion.

" _Sure_ you're not," the male voice said, clearly disbelieving.

I heard more footsteps in the snow, but my attention was arrested by the wookiee's weapon, which I could see through the limited sight of the un-augmented stormtrooper helmet, was still aimed at me.

"Solo, wait." The timbre of the new voice filled my chest with warmth like a hug. But it wasn't new, not really. I _knew_ that voice. "Something's not right. A regular trooper wouldn't be this far from base."

 _Yes,_ I thought, hoping that the other would listen to this voice of reason.

"Look kid, we don't have the luxury, or the time, to take prisoners."

"I'm serious, Solo." And then, to me, "show me your face."

I sat up slowly then, fighting against the sharp and sudden headache that rocked me with the motion, and complied. I lifted the helmet from my head with shaky hands and dropped it into the snow beside me. I searched for the speaker and when our eyes met, I was paralyzed.

FN-2187, a ghost in a black synthwool poncho, gaped at me. My lips moved, but I had no voice. The young man came to me and knelt in the snow beside me, his hands out as though he didn't believe what he was seeing.

" _Riala_?"

I couldn't believe my own eyes as I looked upon him. But there was his strong jaw, his clear, dark eyes, his guileless mouth, and his focused brow.

"What are-" I started, but was immediately bowled over by his infectious enthusiasm.

"Are you hurt? What are you doing out here?"

"What am _I_ doing? I thought you were-"

"Dead? No! I thought you were on the-"

A throat cleared.

"Friend of yours?"

FN-2187 looked to the other man, whose weathered face bore an expression of wry interest. The wookiee standing to his side rumbled a comment.

"Guys, this is Riala. She's definitely _not_ a soldier. I know her. From before."

The man leaned forward, pointing at me. "That's not very reassuring."

FN-2187, at a loss, looked at me then, and suddenly I found myself the center of attention. It was not a comfortable feeling, nor was the snow melt seeping into my under-armor, but I dared not move.

"You'd better talk fast," he said, leaning back slightly, distancing himself.

Where could I even begin?

"I'm trying to run away from the Order," I said. Simple, concise.

"Looks like you were running toward it," Solo uttered.

"I was going to find a hangar. I want to get out of here," I said. I hoped that I was convincing as I pleaded my case. The wookiee still held his weapon, and judging by the smoking pile in my peripheral vision, being fired upon from this close would obliterate me.

"You can fly?" This came from FN-2187.

Despite the cold, I felt my cheeks burn.

"No... I haven't figured out the details yet."

"If you're trying to escape, what are you doing out here?"

I searched his face as I tried to conjure the words to reply. He needed to know.

"Running," I said. The crease between his brows deepened. "I turned on him, FN-2187. I rose against my teacher."

His eyes widened. He knew of whom I spoke. He understood everything.

"You fought him and lived? But… how?"

"I don't know. I just know that he wanted me to fully join the Dark Side. I… couldn't do it."

"A Force-user? She's a _Force-user?_ " Startled, I looked toward FN-2187's human companion. He was nearly beside himself with incredulity. "What are you _doing_ to me, kid?"

"She can't read minds, Solo, it's okay," FN-2187 said in a misguided attempt to placate. Solo threw up his arms, exasperated.

"Oh, it's _okay_. Well if it's okay, then I won't worry."

"You got away," FN-2187 said, ignoring his companion. he was in disbelief.

"Yes," I said. "But I lost everything."

There was a moment of silence, and I found myself lost in the memory of it. It was mostly true. I'd lost everything but my life, and in return I got a vision I didn't understand. I still didn't know if it had been worth it.

"The question is, what do we do with her?" Solo asked, leaning into FN-2187. A similar question was in the younger man's eyes when he looked at me again.

And to my surprise, I felt moisture gather in the corners of my eyes as the hopelessness and stifled emotions of the last few days began to resurface. I looked away, swiping at the shameful tears with the soft part of my glove.

A hand was offered to me and earnest eyes communicated untempered acceptance. I allowed myself to be hoisted to my feet.

Without saying a word, FN-2187 unfastened the black poncho he was wearing and pulled it from his shoulders. He wrapped the warm cover around me. One hand lingered on my shoulder plate. I clutched the fabric close, almost crying for the sensation of his residual body heat as it brought life and feeling back to my limbs and soothed sore joints. I wanted to lean into him and close my eyes and live inside of that warmth forever. But then I remembered where I was. He smiled at me and motioned his head toward the others.

"This is Han Solo and Chewie." I looked at his companions. The wookiee, easily over two meters tall, warbled something that could have been a greeting. The other man seemed to be more concerned with watching the horizon ahead. He seemed unable to stand completely still.

"You've been busy, FN-2187," I remarked.

"You have no idea. And just call me Finn."

I looked at the former cadet. He had a name.

"Finn," I repeated, a smile threatening the corner of my mouth. His expression was terse now, almost urgent.

"You told me once that I was a good man. Not a good soldier, a good man." He looked down, his lips working, soft, boyish. "It was the first time anyone's said something like that to me. And for once, I believed that I could be more than just a soldier." He was practically overflowing with enthusiasm as he motioned to the others. "I have friends, now, Riala. I'm with the Resistance."

"What are you doing, Kid?" Han interjected. "You can't just blab our business to anyone."

I had already guessed as much, but it was clear that the nature their 'business' was covert enough to warrant caution.

"I don't care what you're doing here. I just want to get out of First Order space."

"Hope you weren't hoping for a ride from us," Han said without humor.

I looked toward the shape I'd seen before, the ship. It was perched precariously on the edge of a steep drop, and from the look of the swathe of disturbed snow and ruined trees behind it, the landing had been less than optimal. I spared the older man a questioning look. Finn cleared his throat.

"We have some business to take care of first."

There was a bestial moan from the wookiee. It was strange, but I was beginning to understand his intonations, if not his words. He was anxious.

"Chewie's right," Han Solo said. "We need to get going, kid. Patrols are probably headed this way."

"Good idea." Finn met my eyes. I knew what he was going to say before he said it, and everything inside of me rebelled. "Riala. Come with us. Help us stop the First Order before they can hurt anyone else."

My mouth opened as if to speak, but I didn't have the words. I didn't want to say no, but I couldn't bring myself to say yes. Two parts of me warred and between them there was a standstill. Han Solo sighed.

"We don't have all day. You coming or not?"

That was as much of an invitation as any. I sensed a grudging acceptance in the older man, but beneath it a deep caution. He didn't wait for my confirmation, he simply waved the wookiee to him and walked off.

Finn was waiting.

I relented, signaling my concession with a slight nod of the head. Thrilled, he bent down and picked up my helmet. We hurried to catch up, our path taking us far from the ship's landing site.

Behind us, the brisk wind disturbed the powdery snow and served to soften our footprints. In this weather, our tracks would be covered for us.

Finn and I caught up to the others, though it wasn't easy. The wookiee's stride was long, and Han's age was no deterrent.

"Why don't you want to come with us?" Finn asked me after we fell into step behind the others.

I didn't know how to answer him. All I could think about was having to face Kylo Ren again. If I joined the Resistance, or helped these people it could very well happen. Who better to fight off the powerful Force wielder than his former student?

I couldn't do it. Not deliberately. I knew he would sense me through our connection when I came near enough to him. By entering the base at all, I ran the risk of running into him again, and I had to accept that if I wanted to escape. But I could not seek him out. I couldn't face his anger. And I wanted no part in the forces that had urged me to kill him either. How could I possibly explain all of this to Finn?

"I want to," I said finally. "But I can't." His smile died. I walked close and touched his arm, a silent apology.

"You could help us," he said.

"He'll be able to sense me, Finn. We're connected. He's been able to find me before. I can't put your operation at risk."

I didn't need to say who 'he' was. He seemed to be considering my words.

"I wish you could come with us. But I understand. It's nice to see you anyway."

Finn's disappointment seemed to have passed for the most part, but the conversation was over for now.

* * *

Before long the conversation picked up again. Slowly at first, as we tried to get a sense of who we were to one another, in bits and pieces. But then it came more easily. His optimism and strong sense of duty to his new friends was refreshing. It helped that he seemed unable to contain his questions. I welcomed relief from the desolate sounds of wind and boots crunching in snow.

He was insistent about hearing what had happened to me, so I tried to oblige him. As soon as I began I knew that I would have to omit much of it. Some aspects were still too fresh, too personal to share with him. He wouldn't be able to understand. Some of it might only cast doubt on our new alliance, such as my original intentions toward Poe Dameron. And after Han's reaction when he learned that I was sensitive with the Force, I decided to downplay that aspect of it. What I ended up sharing was a heavily-edited and very different version of events. But it was enough. The kyber crystal remained tucked into my pouch and out of the narrative completely.

Han Solo listened to every word. I even heard him give a low whistle when I recounted my escape from the Finalizer. Then it was Finn's turn.

As he spoke of his chance encounter with Poe's droid and everything that followed, I listened raptly. Everything that had happened to me was nothing compared to Finn's first experiences as a free man and all the friends he'd made. Especially Rey. I did not miss that when he spoke of the young woman, a subtle but steady warmth seemed to grow in him. The girl was capable, extremely so, and from the way he spoke about her, I could tell that he had begun to develop feelings for her.

I immediately brushed aside the small pang of jealousy when I realized this. In my selfishness, I almost missed the turn of his voice, the urgency and anxiousness of his words.

"We got separated on Takodana. Kylo Ren, he…" his voice trailed off. I was almost too scared to ask.

"Is she…" I couldn't finished the question. He looked at me, the intensity of his worry burning in his eyes.

"He took her. I tried to stop him, but I was too late."

"Don't blame yourself, kid," Han Solo said from a few paces ahead. "You couldn't have stopped him if you'd tried. He's too powerful."

There was something almost fatherly about the way he spoke, and I sensed a soft side to the older man that hadn't been apparent before.

"I know. But she's here now, and we're going to get her out."

"I can't believe he'd do that," I said, more to myself than to Finn. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"He's a cold-blooded killer, Riala," Finn said with sudden force. "He's evil and he'll do anything to get that map. We have to stop him. If he touches her, I'll kill him myself."

I believed him. There was murder in his eyes. I didn't know what to say. Any doubts might be seen as opposition, or taking the side of the enemy.

I fell silent, unsure how to confront the frustration building in him when it felt so personal. He wouldn't hurt her, I told myself, though I wasn't sure. In his sudden anger, he had struck me, but I didn't sense that he gained any enjoyment from the act. In fact, through my shock, I sensed the distinct bite of regret. But how could I justify this? Had I ever really known him? Could I really say what he would do to achieve his ends? Worse, I worried that my rebellion may have influenced his actions, spurred him into desperation. I shook away such thoughts.

Time was short.

Around a rocky ridge was a small comms tower, and beyond that, the flooding tunnels. If I wanted to seek out a hangar where I might find a way off of Starkiller Base, our paths would need to diverge now.

Finn stopped me in a place that served to shield us from the unrelenting wind.

"They'll be able to see the stolen ID in your armor. I can help with that."

He reached for my helmet and, curious, I gave it to him.

I watched as he reached inside. After a moment of feeling around, he apparently found what he was looking for. With a twist of his wrist and the sound of snapping connectors, he produced a small piece of hardware from the inside. He returned my helmet to me and tossed the hardware, a short, thin cylinder, behind him where it disappeared between some snow-laden boulders.

"If they scan you, they won't immediately know who you are. But you need to be careful. Stay out of sight as much as possible, Riala. And be careful."

My throat tightened. On impulse, I moved in and embraced him in a hug. After a moment, he returned the hug, breathing deeply and exhaling a white cloud of vapor.

"If … _when_ we get out of this, promise me you'll look me up?"

I agreed even as I knew that I couldn't make such a promise with any degree of certainty.

Han nodded a farewell and I watched the trio make haste toward the comms tower and the structure past it. I walked the other direction.

* * *

I expected that entering the base would be the hardest part. I was wrong. I simply accessed an outer door and stepped through. In my full plate, I blended instantly with the passing groups of snow and stormtroopers. My first priority was to find a way to stay out of sight. If anyone noticed that I was lacking an ID, it might lead to questions. I had no time for questions. But I did have a general idea of where some of the hangars were.

" _Fifteen minutes to weapon charge,"_ a mechanized female voice announced over the comms in the main space. My heart skipped a beat, but to my surprise, the announcement garnered no reaction from anyone that I passed. I could tell without using the Force that tension was high.

I turned down a side corridor, thinking to use the turbolifts to one of the smaller hangars. The corridor was empty. Overjoyed with my apparent fortune, I walked forward.

"You, there," a sharp voice startled me out of my musings. "What are you doing?"

Behind me, standing by the corner I'd just taken, was a fully-armored stormtrooper. He held a blaster rifle in his hand, and the single red pauldron indicated his position in command.

"Patrol," I answered quickly. "Sir."

Behind him, I could see more passing troops.

He took a few steps toward me. Blank, dark eyeholes examined my appearance from head to toe. I thought only of the blades strapped to my belt.

"Your armor is filthy and your ID signal appears to be damaged. What is your designation?"

"FN… two… three… one-zero," It didn't even sound convincing to my own ears.

Somehow, the suit of armor in front of me seemed to draw up and become more imposing. He shifted his grip on his blaster rifle, and then he gestured at me.

"Take off your helmet," he ordered, calm. Fear leapt into my throat. I thought of the vibroblades, looked at his blaster.

My stomach and heart seemed to trade places. I felt energy begin to gather in my hands, but then a deep unease spread inside of me. I felt like that voice, genderless and hissing, still lurked in the back of my mind, waiting for another chance. The prickling power seemed to dissolve away on its own.

Instead, I did as he asked, keeping my movements slow as the blood drained from my face. I dropped the helmet and raised my hands.

"Hold on. Brown hair… eyes…" he raised the white blaster rifle and aimed it at me. "Are _you_ the one we're looking for?"

He tilted his head. I heard the chirp of comms.

"HQ, I've got a suspicious female, in whiteplate with no ID… Brown hair, brown eyes, age nineteen or twenty. She fits the description, please advise."

They were looking for me? It couldn't be. That made no sense. A moment later, he nodded, listening to the other end of his conversation.

"718? That's on the other side..."he looked at me. "Better safe than Force-choked."

Without lowering the gun, he checked behind him. A patrol of three stormtroopers came around the corner and stepped in behind him.

"Reporting."

"Restrain her and accompany me to central processing," the leader ordered the other three.

I was dead. White suits of armor approached and surrounded me. Glossy blaster rifles glinted in the low lighting, barrels trained on me, as I was turned around. My hands were pulled in front of me and I heard the whir of the mechanized lock of the cuffs as they locked my wrists together.

Once immobilized, I was disarmed of my vibroblades. It was a mercy that my pouch was not searched; inside, the kyber crystal lay nestled. Strong hands seized my upper arms and ushered me back toward the busy hallway.

Bare-faced and exposed, my captors marched with me through the base. The one with the red pauldron led the way. Few even spared a glance toward the procession. Apparently the prisoner and her escort was not worth any attention.

If I lagged, I was rewarded with the sharp jab of a blaster rifle to my lower back. My mind scrambled for recourse, but came up blank. Walls of black rock gave way to black and grey metal plating the farther from the exterior that we went. I thought about Finn and Han and Chewie, and silently I begged their forgiveness if their plan was discovered when Kylo Ren probed my memories again.

We entered what I assumed to be Central Processing. I was ushered toward a workstation and my vibroblades were passed to the tech behind it. As the leader explained the situation, I looked to windows set into the wall high above. Through them I could see overcast daylight.

Just then, the lights flickered. Distant, percussive sounds, like pops filtered through the structure of the ceiling above us, and for a moment, every person stopped what they were doing and listened.

Through the workstation, an announcement was broadcast.

" _Alert level Alpha, all available troops to assigned battlestations. Shields are down. We are under attack."_

The men holding me wasted no time. I was unceremoniously hauled through a door and then I was pushed backwards through a smaller doorway.

The door closed, sealing me into relative silence. Through the walls and ceiling, however, I could hear the sounds of distant blaster canons. The assault had begun.

Weakly, I kicked it and rested my head against it, tugging at my restraints. The base was under attack. Finn had succeeded, and the Resistance was here now. Somewhere on base were three new allies, maybe four. A chance for a future. With any luck they were already heading back to their ship with Rey. And I was trapped here in this cell.

So distracted was I by my own abysmal situation that I didn't notice that I was not alone. I sensed the presence of another behind me. Someone familiar.

I turned.

Seven was sitting on the bench to the right, his bare head leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. Like me, he wore his armor, minus a helmet. His hands were also in cuffs, resting loosely between his knees. If he noticed or cared that he had a new cellmate, he gave no indication.

"Hello again," I said, forcing calm.

His eyes were on me like a shot. And then he stood, his mouth agape.

"Riala. This… is a surprise."

Once he recovered from his shock, he granted me with a slow smile. The lurch I felt in my lower belly was not unwelcome.

"The feeling is mutual," I said dryly.

He looked me over in a way that made my body suit feel too constricting and overly warm.

"You look good in that armor," he said. "It almost looks like it belongs to you."

His seamless change from flirtation to accusation caught me off guard.

"You're locked in here with me," I pointed out, motioning to his wrist restraints, unable to conceal my indignity. "I suppose you turned yourself in willingly?"

His face softened as if maintaining a brave front had drained him. He turned away from me and raked his gloved hand back through his short hair, both arms moving together.

"'Loyalty assessment'," he said without humor. "I'm to be questioned. If I'm found lacking, I will be reconditioned."

"Loyalty assessment? What happened?" I forgot my own peril for the moment.

"I was told, by Kylo Ren himself, to guard his prisoner until he returned. I was warned that she might attempt to escape. That she might try to use the Force to do so."

That caught my attention. "Who was she?"

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "A young woman, close to your age. A scavenger from Jakku. That's all I know."

Rey. He was speaking of Finn's friend; I was sure of it.

"You're sure she used the Force?"

He nodded.

"He thought that with my training, I might be able to resist her. He was wrong."

"She attacked you?"

"No, she… told me to let her go. I thought she'd lost her mind. The next thing I knew, I was halfway to the mess hall with no gun and no memory of how I got there. She got free, and somehow she made me do it." He turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to quell a headache.

"It sounds like you couldn't have done anything," I said, a bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. If what he said was true, then not only was Rey Force sensitive, she was gifted.

"Tell that to the Commander. I was found and thrown in here." When he looked at me next, all bravado was gone. It looked as though he had aged a few years over the duration of this conversation. "I don't think I can survive another reconditioning."

I felt nothing but sympathy for him, but at the moment I was in no position to offer comfort or help.

"I'm sorry," I said, though it was an empty sentiment. He shrugged.

"I'm glad she got away," he said. "She didn't belong in a place like that." The admission surprised me.

"They thought I was her," I said, remembering the description. Brown hair, brown eyes, roughly my age.

"I could see how they might be mistaken," he said. "But there was something about her. She wasn't just any prisoner, not to him. When he discovered her missing, I was told that he destroyed that room."

I couldn't help but snort, despite the fact that I was feeling no levity. His temper, likely already frayed by my betrayal, would not have taken another failure well. She was Force-sensitive, and he knew. Such traits had value to him. With that, a piece fell into place.

I thought back to Finn, and my assertion that Kylo Ren must have wanted something from the woman. There had to be some other reason than the map that would compel him to capture her. But what was it that he wanted from her?

 _A student,_ an unwelcome voice offered. A hateful flash of anger flared inside of me and I clenched my eyes against it. When I opened them again, Seven was watching me.

"The last time I saw you, he seemed to be angry with you," he stated as though he'd been reading my thoughts.

"It wasn't the first time," I said in a neutral voice. "But it was the last."

He nodded, understanding. My relationship with Kylo Ren as a teacher and a lover had been tumultuous and sometimes dangerous. I was his experiment, and he'd failed. The thought that he might already be seeking a replacement for me made me feel ill and enraged, both for the young woman's sake and for my own. Stranger still, though she was described to be around my age, I couldn't help but think of her as being so much younger than me. The scavenger from Jakku. Who was this girl that everyone was suddenly talking about?

"I turned against him, Seven. When he finds me here, he _will_ kill me," I said. And then, remembering his impassioned claims that my ability to connect with Ilum could help Snoke, and his apparent willingness to use me without my consent, I added, "or worse."

"So here we are, then. A traitor and a thief," Seven said, breaking me from my heavy thoughts. I looked up to see his blue eyes dancing and a subtle smile on his lips. Some of my anger cooled.

"A fine pair we make."

"Wish it were under different circumstances. But I can't complain about the company."

I smiled and brushed aside his compliment as the words of a doomed man. I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't right, however. My vision hadn't shown me being stuck on the inside of a cell. It hadn't shown me running to safety, either. I _needed_ to go. I didn't care what my nightmare vision showed, if I had a chance, I would leave this star system as soon as I could.

"If only I could get my hands on a ship," I said, looking toward the locked cell door, grey and black durasteel like everything else. "And a pilot."

"I can help with one of those, at least," he said with wryness. "Not that it will do us any good in here."

I turned to him, stunned.

"You're a pilot?"

"Class B," he replied. "Troop transport, mostly. But I have some experience with freighters, carriers, and programming navcom AIs."

"So… if I can get you a ship, you can get us away from this star system?"

His face read as skeptical, but I had grabbed his attention at least.

"The base is on alert, the hangars are on lockdown, and we're in here. Unless..." his eyes narrowed and I could almost see the gears turning in his mind. "Riala, you can use the Force. Can you do what she did?"

I shook my head, as the aversion rose again.

"No. I can't control it like that. It's too dangerous. We'll have to get out of here another way."

He fidgeted with the cuffs.

"We might not have much choice."

"I have combat training," I said without thinking. "We can fight our way out."

He looked me over. "I can probably hold my own against one or two regulars, even with these. But are you sure you can?"

No, I wasn't, and I wasn't sure what had compelled me to assert something like that. I started to answer, to suggest we think on this further, but then the door gave off a muted beep. I stepped back, words forgotten, as it slid open.

Three fully armored and armed guards stood on the other side. Behind them, I could see the effects of the Resistance assault on some distant part of the base as the lights flickered intermittently.

"Get the girl," the one in front said, pointing at me. "General Hux wants her brought to him immediately."

Two men entered the cell, one of them with his hand on his blaster, watching me, the other reaching for my wrists.

Seven and I exchanged glances. His jaw tight, he gave a terse nod.

Suddenly, he rushed into the two stormtroopers in front. I followed suit, throwing my weight forward and slamming a foot into the third one's stomach. He stumbled back. Seven took one guard down with a double fist to the throat and tangled with the other as both tried to get the blaster on the floor beside them.

My stormtrooper had recovered. He raised his rifle. I couldn't tell whether or not it was set to stun. I moved in. I planted my feet against the floor and rammed a shoulder into his chest in an attempt to knock him down. Seven and his stormtrooper struggled, his arms locked around the other's neck as they crashed around the front room.

A fist cracked into the side of my jaw in a spray of stars and I fell back into something solid, a wall. I moved out of the way of another strike, but just barely. The room was tipping and my legs were having difficulty holding me up. My entire face felt like one throbbing center of pain. Seven was back to fighting against two stormtroopers, but he had managed to disarm them both and was using both his fists and his feet to full effect. I had a second to appreciate his combat prowess.

"Riala! Use your power! Use the Force!" Seven shouted from across the room as he struggled with his assailants.

At that moment, the light coming through the windows at the ceiling went out.

" _Weapon charge complete. Prepare to fire."_

The stormtrooper guard took advantage of my distraction. A fist to my gut forced the breath from me. I smashed into a wall and then an armored forearm pressed into my throat. Black, soulless eyes stared at me as the pressure increased. I choked, struggled.

"He wants you alive," he growled. "He didn't say 'conscious.'"

I tried to push him away from me but my arms were losing strength, the wrist restraint kept me from utilizing my full range of motion. The edges of my vision were beginning to blur. My lungs screamed for air. I felt my energy begin to flicker. A cold presence then moved up to the surface of my mind.

 _Do it._

My life was failing. So I reached for his.

The sound of struggle beside me faded beneath the heartbeat in my ear. Time slowed and the world dropped away. My universe shrank until it consisted of nothing but myself and the soldier in front of me.

I felt everything. The entire range of human emotion, complex and nuanced, tangled together into one man-shaped vessel. I felt him. I knew him. I _was_ him.

Anger, sadness, jubilation, fear, amusement, boredom, aggression. Everything passed through him, and into myself. Moods and emotions tied to memories were no longer locked away. Every subtle turn of feeling and emotion that had shaped him as a person became known to me. I knew his heart as well as if we'd spent our lives together. He was spiteful and wracked with self-doubt, but throughout it was a vein of humor and surprising sensitivity. The feeling of really knowing someone in this manner was intoxicating. I felt endless, powerful, omniscient. I wanted more.

 _Do it… a little more. Just a little more._

The voice troubled me, gave an edge of danger to the utter ecstasy of this siphon, but I didn't wish to argue with it now. It was easier to do as it said than to resist.

I could feel myself expanding. A low roar began to rise, constant, irregular, with different intonations and pitches. Voices. Thousands of voices, merging together into a wall of sound. I listened. I found that if I tried, I could pick out one and better understand what it was saying. Someone was screaming, crying. I passed it. As if by some instinct, I followed the trail of one that was familiar to me.

' _He's dead.'_ The voice was Kylo Ren's.

' _So why do I not feel stronger? I did as I thought I should. Master, help me. Guide me. Please.'_

There was a spike of recognition.

' _Riala?'_ He'd sensed me. And then a fierce, blinding burst of agony sent me hurtling back into my own head.

My skin felt too tight, my vision bright and blurry, my limbs restless and uneasy, yet all of this paled beside the completeness I felt at that moment. The energy I'd taken from the soldier was now fully integrated with mine. I looked at my hands. I could sense my skin beneath the gloves, and beneath that, the incredible power.

I listened to the pounding of my heart, and the expansions and contractions of my lungs with each breath, willing the overwhelming sense of frantic energy to go away.

My mouth tasted like ash.

"Riala," a breathless voice said to me. "Your face. Are you hurt?"

I looked to its source and was stunned by the beauty of the man's eyes and the energy that I could see flowing through him. He was worried. Scattered around the room behind him were the two white-armored soldiers. Both alive, but unconscious, one had lost his helmet at some point. I looked down at the form laying at my feet. In stark contrast it was inert. Dark.

Where there should have been an energy signature, there was nothing. It was an empty vessel.

I stumbled back, gasping, trying to fight through the rushing of blood to my head to realize what that meant, but the residual emotions that did not belong to me clouded my thoughts. Though his body lay there, I still felt him in me.

"Why isn't he there?" I heard myself ask, my voice sounding strange to my ears.

"Riala, we have to go."

A hand took mine and I heard the low tone of the maglock disengaging. The cuffs fell to the floor and the hand holding mine pulled. I wanted to sit down, to process the overload of emotional and sensory information, but there was no time, because we were moving. I didn't resist as Seven lead me to the exit. He leaned out to check the corridor outside.

"I killed him," I said. I was having difficulty understanding the words as I said them. Dead. Everything felt as though I were in a dream, soft around the edges and disconnected. My heart thudded, sent energy and power coursing throughout my body. A hand squeezed mine and I looked at it numbly.

"Don't think about it now. We might not get another chance. The main hangars are heavily guarded," Seven said, checking around a corner. "We need a plan."

"Waste processing," I said, pushing down the unpleasant thoughts.

"Yes, the receiving hangars might be overlooked. We'll have to make sure we don't get caught in the crossfire on the surface." he said. I heard what he was saying, but was having trouble remembering where I was, and the urgency of the situation. The incident that I was not allowing myself to think about was still there, taunting me to examine it further, threatening to distract me from the present. I couldn't shake the creeping feeling on my spine and the sense of intense dread that I had let something in.

I felt faster, lighter. My senses were sharpened. I couldn't seem to turn off the Force-bolstered perception. What resulted was the constant awareness of the locations, and feelings, of everyone in the vicinity. Every group of techs and soldiers that passed us, even with walls in between, was a universe of feeling and potential distraction. Seven seemed to know that something was wrong. He kept a guiding hand on me, kept us close. Somewhere between the confusion and the glowing, shimmering high, I felt intense gratitude toward him.

The dark, creeping feeling only grew stronger, and despite my efforts, the unpleasant thing could not be suppressed for long. I thought of the inert body back in central processing. It shouldn't have bothered me. If Kylo Ren had been right about one thing, it was that people would die while I cam to grips with my abilities. But it should not have felt so good. The hissing voice was silent, perhaps sated for the moment, but irrational paranoia clung to me. I felt as though the soldier's hollow body were following me. I could almost see those blank eyes in the helmet watching my back. Seven and I took advantage of the chaos to make a clean escape toward the very hangar where I'd found berth, but after every turn, I felt the need to look behind me.

I saw nothing, sensed nothing to confirm my fears.

Groups of TIE pilots ran past us, no doubt headed for the military hangars, and paid no attention to the two helmetless stormtroopers going the opposite direction.

It seemed that the search for me, or Rey, had ended for the time being, but I still made use of the slave access tunnels to avoid base personnel as much as possible. In there, the lights flickered intermittently.

A door opened ahead and to the right, letting in light from the hallway outside in a moment of darkness. I could see the shapes of figures.

I recognized Greta's energy before I saw her. She was amongst a group of others. When she saw us, a pair of stormtroopers, a spike of fear from her told me that she was doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing.

"Greta!" I called to her. Confusion. "It's me, Riala. 221784-R."

Recognition. The woman and those with her approached us with caution. It was then that I realized that there was definitely something more to their sudden appearance. Greta's slender form was clothed in padded combat training armor. The others, a group of six male and female slaves and servants, some of whom I remembered seeing in Phasma's quarters, were similarly attired. They wielded various makeshift weapons, pipes and kitchen knives.

"Riala?" she said, confusion in her smooth voice as she examined my armor. "I thought you defected."

"I did," I said. I felt the tension of the group lessen slightly. "The Resistance is-"

"I know," she interrupted, an edge of nervous impatience to her voice. I heard the sound of radio. They were listening in on troop reports. I found this strange, but there was no time to puzzle over it.

"We're leaving. We're going to try and steal a ship." I motioned to Seven. "Seven is with me. He can fly."

She looked him over carefully and he gave a courteous nod.

"It sounds like you two have a better plan than we do," she said finally. I considered that more people meant a higher risk of being caught, or that we might not even being able to find a ship that could carry so many. But at this point, there were so many factors that I couldn't keep track of them all, and this venture already had a fairly small chance of succeeding.

"Want a ride?" I offered with a small smile. Seven gave me a look, which I ignored. His emotional read was clear enough: are you insane?

"I wouldn't turn it down," she replied with an elegant smile.

"Waste processing and receiving," I said, meeting Seven's look of stoic disapproval. Greta, the apparent leader, rallied the others and together they began to move ahead in the direction we'd been going.

"We can't save everyone," Seven said to me in a low voice. "Some might be better off staying behind. At least they would be alive."

I had to use quick judgment to decide what to tell him, or if he would even believe me if I did. The urgency of the timeframe made the decision for me.

"Seven, this isn't just any attack. They are going to succeed, and they're going to destroy the base."

"How can you know that?"

"I've seen it," I answered without wavering. Time was short, and there was no room for doubt. I had to tell him. "I've lived it many times. In dreams, or visions, whatever you want to call them. It's going to happen, and anyone still on Starkiller when it does will die with it."

"We'd better hurry, then," he said after considering it for a moment. I could have kissed him. Instead, together we rejoined the group where Seven and I assumed the lead.

Mercifully, the adverse effects of the energy siphon had been fading steadily. Perhaps due to my experiences with the sensation, I was able to overcome the most troublesome aspects of it. Encountering new company served to distract me from the unsettling feeling that we were being followed. Greta kept pace with me. I caught her looking at me out of the corner of her eyes and got the sense that she wanted to say something to me, but was holding back. I was startled by her apparent readiness for combat. It was possible that I was not the only one that Captain Phasma may have instructed in combat maneuvers. In truth, I actually knew very little about Greta herself. I hoped we would live long enough for me to learn everything about this fascinating woman.

We emerged into a main corridor and then to the ramp leading down a passageway toward waste receiving. Greta finally spoke what was on her mind.

"Riala, you haven't heard from Phasma, have you?" the question was unexpected.

"Not in awhile," I admitted. Thinking of the last time that I did speak with her pained me.

"No one has been able to reach her," Greta said then, worry creasing her brow. I started to puzzle over what this could mean when the group emerged through a door and into a wide open space. The hangar.

It was in chaos.

A desperate battle was being waged between stormtroopers and a smaller group of non-military personnel. The fight was unfolding before a docked freighter ship, apparently undamaged. There was no cargo container attached, but the ship itself, likely a salvage vessel as well, appeared large enough to house a couple dozen people. It seemed that both of the parties currently engaged in the fighting had arrived in the hangar with the same idea we had. Personnel wearing the attire of couriers and higher-level messengers were clashing against the stormtroopers and a couple of officers. Blaster bolts struck rock and durasteel debris, and the sounds of melee altercations could be heard over the distant explosions. Small utility vehicles and mover droids littered the battlefield before the ship. Past it in the distance, I could see a firefight against the dark grey sky, red engine flares swirling with green.

Greta pushed past me and she and the other slaves rushed ahead and began attacking the white-suited soldiers whose opponents now outnumbered them and were starting to gain ground. Seven and I followed after them. I threw myself into the fray, hurling myself at a soldier that was in the midst of attacking an older male in a neat messenger uniform. Together we managed to knock him to the ground. Before I could act, the messenger grabbed the soldier's blaster pistol and fired it point blank into his helmet.

I heard a scream behind me. I turned away from the violent scene and looked straight into a pair of molten golden brown eyes. Armata. She was struggling against an officer, who had one hand wound tightly in her hair while the other pressed a gun to her temple. Seven was right behind her with his back turned.

"Seven!" I shouted over the clash, no time for more words.

He turned around and followed my eyes. He saw Armata, he raised his blaster. He fired. Blood splattered the warm, tan skin of Armata's face. The top of the officer's head was gone.

The corpse tipped forward, perfectly pressed uniform in contrast with the gore that had been his face, and she crumpled beside it, sobbing. Before I could go to her, Seven had rushed to her side. He helped her to her feet. She wasn't a fighter, I knew. She must have come with the other messengers.

A colossal explosion in the distance drowned out all other noise. An accompanying tremor rattled the floor and walls and a massive chunk of rock dislodged from the ceiling and crashed to the floor, crushing the body of a fallen stormtrooper. Everyone, even the soldiers, stopped what they were doing to look out the hangar opening. Outside, in every visible part of the base, fires were erupting. The floor shook beneath us. A siren had started going off within the hangar and in the distance.

"Time to go!" Seven yelled, helping Armata to her feet. Galvanized into action, the insurgents took down the last of the stormtrooper soldiers and everyone left standing, and some that needed help walking, converged toward the freighter.

I caught up to them, but still had the nagging feeling that I was not considering something. My vision. In it, I was running into the base. But why?

Movement shifted the chrome bar around my neck. Phasma. No one had heard from her or had been able to contact her, according to Greta.

"What are you guys doing here?" Seven asked, his arm around Armata's waist.

"We all saw the communiques and the missives," Armata said, her voice tremulous as she went up the ramp ahead of me. Tears and smoke streaked her face as she looked back at me. "After what happened to the Republic..." she trailed off.

"We couldn't be a part of this anymore," another courier, an older man, finished. "But they knew we were coming. They got here first. Killed our pilot."

Seven gave me a look of bemused irony before answering, "it's good that we found you, then."

I waited before entering, and helped usher the rest in, watching entrance to the hangar. I could sense that no one else would be coming to either join us or stop us. Just then, a great crack appeared along the wall and snaked up to the ceiling.

"Everyone in, we need to leave _now_ ," Seven shouted, jumping into the cockpit at the front of the freighter once the last of the group had entered the ship. From where I stood in the doorway, I could see him starting to flip control switches and power the engines up.

A flash of imagery froze me mid-step. Red flashing light, fires, the sounds of sirens. Distant screams. This was all so familiar. I took a step backwards.

"Riala, what are you doing?" Armata called from her place at Seven's side over the roar of the engines flaring to life. Inside the freighter's small cargo hold, slaves and servants sat close and held one another, nursing wounds of their own, or of each others'. Some of them were now looking at me with desperate fear. But where was Phasma? The sudden fear that she might be injured somewhere and unable to call for help twisted in my gut. And then the nature of my vision revealed itself. My mouth was dry as I took a step back.

"Go without me," I replied, feeling as though the words being spoken were not mine. A great tremor caused a support wall to crack, and the crack spread to the floor and toward the freighter. I backed down the ramp, meeting the eyes of every person inside of the ship. "Now! Leave!"

"What are you talking about? The base is falling apart!" Armata's face was twisted with fear and confusion. I could easily take two steps forward until I was safely in the ship, the ramp folding closed behind me, sitting amongst the others as the freighter took off. Instead, I found myself moving back until my feet touched the duracrete floor of the hangar.

I didn't answer her question. Instead, I turned and went the other way. The last thing I saw were Armata's golden eyes glistening in the hot, smoky air as the docking ramp rose. My heart sank like lead as I got farther away from them.

It occurred to me that Phasma could already be dead, that I might not find her. The sound of the ship's engines flaring as it rose from the floor was overtaken by the rumbling and deep, resounding snapping sounds of the base's support structure being rended apart. I kept running.

Scattered explosions, some far, some sounding too near, peppered the ambient noise. In a monitoring room ahead and to my right, a burst of heat and light was followed by an agonized shriek. I raced past without turning to look. I dodged beneath dangling, sparking circuits and around burst environmental conduits spewing mists of coolant from the ceiling.

The irregular but steadily-increasing vibrations in the walls and floors were a constant reminder that even a base as massive as Starkiller had its breaking point. I thought of my vision, and how it had ended in an apparent explosion of blinding white light.

I rushed into the corridors. Distant booming cracks rippled through the durasteel walls and floor. Metal plating buckled. The red lights in the slave tunnels were now flashing as I raced through them to avoid collapsed sections of corridor and impassable fires. But still, there was no detour I took that was unexpected. I followed the route by heart.

Deeper into the base I flew. I felt that there was something terrible at my back, but if I turned to look, I would falter. I rushed to a walkway bordering a deep expanse perhaps five meters across. Walls lined in pill lights stretched far above and below, though I tried to keep my eyes ahead to prevent any dizziness.

However, I did happen to glance over to the other side.

A pair of eyes, appearing dark in the diffuse light, looked back at me from a fine, pale face. The black cap and heavy charcoal overcoat couldn't disguise the shape of General Hux. He was surrounded by a contingent of snowtroopers and his emotional read was anxious and frustrated. He stopped to stare at me, but the troopers urged him on. I exited the open area as quickly as possible.

I descended three levels. The dead littered the halls and occasionally a stray soldier would race past me, always in the opposite direction. When I smelled the garbage, I knew that I was coming close. I turned past a gibbering protocol droid and into the garbage compactor access corridor. Dingy walls a few stories high were labeled with numbered designations. It was otherwise empty of human life.

I stopped and listened.

The consistent rumbling of the ground had only been increasing in volume and urgency since I'd left the hangar. Within smaller access tunnels and enclosed areas such as this, a low, regular tone sounded the critical alarm.

And then I heard something. Beyond the rhythmic pulse, beneath the sounds of the base falling apart… I heard someone screaming for help. A spike of panicked recognition coursed through my veins and gave me speed.

I followed the sounds and pressed my ear to the door where it was coming from. Quickly, I gripped the hatch wheel and began to loosen it, fighting the flashbacks to my own experience with such a door. A grinding metallic sound accompanied the lock mechanism, and then the door popped open with a rush of warm, foul air.

Straight ahead of me, a flash of gleaming metal grabbed my eye amongst the garbage. A suit of chrome-plated armor was tangled in it. Its owner looked to me, her bare face flush and filthy, and she was partially submerged in the black, filthy liquid at the bottom of the compactor.

"Riala!" she screamed when she saw me. Hope was chased immediately by uncertainty. And then she groaned, bending forward, her lovely face straining into a grimace of pain. She was injured. I wasted no time.

Wading in garbage water up to my knees, climbing over debris and refuse, I made my way toward her. She was a shining jewel amidst a sea of refuse and filth. I moved as quickly as I could, and when I drew near, her movements became more frantic as she struggled to push something away from her. I could now see that a heavy chunk of the metal plating the ceiling had fallen on top of her leg and she was now trapped beneath it. Her helmet was just out of her reach, the silver face smashed in by a chunk of metal.

"Please," she said in a plaintive tone that was painful for me to hear. "Riala, I-"

"I couldn't leave without you," I said to her, holding her pain-dilated grey eyes with mine. I tried to communicate to her without words that our last conversation was no longer relevant, that nothing else mattered at this moment except for her. Without telepathy, she seemed to understand and her uncertainty slipped away. I examined the mess she appeared to be tangled in.

"My leg, I think it's broken," she grunted, tugging at the durasteel sheet. "If we push together we might be able to loosen it."

I gripped her hand briefly, and then together we pushed. Every muscle strained. My feet began to slide backwards in the rancid liquid. I had to readjust my angle, try again. Tears streamed down my face from the concentrated garbage fumes irritating my eyes, blurring my vision.

Then the metal shifted. She cried out in pain, a sound that shot through my body as though I could feel it, but she was free. At that moment, the floor began to rumble beneath us. The lights flickered and the garbage around us moved, sloshed, swayed with the motions. I helped her to her feet. It was not an easy task; even without her armor, Phasma was taller than me and heavier from sheer muscle mass alone. With it, I knew that had both of her legs been broken, we would not have made it.

With my help, she grabbed her helmet, I carried it for her andwondered that such an item was so important to her but didn't question it, and we limped together toward the exit.

The way I'd taken to come in was now impassable; a cave-in of tangled wires, pipe, and rock eliminated the route to the levels above. I didn't know what to do, so, supporting Phasma, we hobbled together straight ahead. I knew that there were multiple hangars connected to this part of the base. I hoped that the one on this level was still there, and that perhaps there was a ship inside. Some part of me accepted that there were mere minutes left, perhaps seconds.

"Riala, leave me," Phasma groaned when a false step nearly made me lose my footing. Struggling to help her walk, I didn't have any patience for her plea.

"I would rather die with you than by myself," I grunted between steps. She said nothing to that, too overwhelmed with the pain in her leg. We focused on the task ahead of us, one step at a time. Dead bodies were more prominent here. Mostly slaves or low-level waste management techs. I sensed in the base structure around me a few sparks of life, but many of them faded before I came upon them. I ignored the one persistent life sign I sensed in an adjacent room and tried not to bring the terror I felt in that person with me. All I could think about was breathing, urging my muscles to continue through their exhaustion, to keep moving forward.

The halls were mercifully passable on this level. The route to the hangar was wholly free of any blockages, but I was aware of a growing sense of pressure coming from beneath me and outside of myself.

When we emerged into a lower hangar, I was not entirely surprised to see that, apart from some flaming vehicle remnants and scattered debris, it was empty. If there had been any working ships, they were long gone. We kept moving forward.

Our steps slowed as we crossed the cracked and trembling floor. Beyond the open hangar bay, we could see nothing but flaming wreckage where the solar heat array surrounding the superweapon had once been. I felt numb as I looked at it, too exhausted for fear.

In a way, it was beautiful. The way the gouts of fire illuminated the sky, smoke tinged purple and red obscured the stars far above. An entire level of the base to the distant left where the interior wall of the equatorial rift curved around into view, snapped and fell into itself, sinking into fire.

Together, Phasma and I came to the edge of the hangar bay's open ledge. The drop from here to the bottom was easily six stories or more.

I thought about throwing myself off of it, ending my life on my terms. A hand on my face brought me back. I looked up into Phasma's eyes, and in them I could sense that she had known what I was thinking. Even dilated with the pain of her crushed leg and the effort it took to stand, she managed an expression of pure longing.

"Riala, I-"

I silenced her with a kiss. Her lips tasted like sweat and she smelled like garbage, as did I, but all I could think about was how grateful I was that my vision was false and that I was not alone. I didn't want to be alone. Our kiss broke. Phasma now had tears streaking the dirt on her cheeks. Our foreheads touched, and quaking with quiet sobs, we sank to the floor clutching each other as the planet fell around us.

Bright white light flashed behind my lids. For a brief second, I thought the end had come.

But then I heard voices shouting.

Shouting my name. I looked past the light, front lights of the freighter, and saw the faces of Greta and Armata. I dragged Phasma toward the edge. Arms grabbed us, pulled us inside.

The door of the freighter closed behind us, but not before I heard the massive, rumbling crash of the hangar collapsing in on itself behind us.

"We couldn't leave you," a voice, Greta, said. I saw that there were more faces in the hold of the ship than there had been before, some in white armor like mine. I couldn't examine them further.

Greta, Phasma, and I held onto each other as the g-force of the rapidly rising freighter pulled down on us. Seven was ahead in the cockpit, Armata at his side, gripping his shoulder as he jerked the yoke back as far as it would go.

Through the front window, I could see a bright hot light flaring from underneath us. I felt its heat coming through the floor.

The pressure I had felt earlier was growing. A firm hand lighted on my arm but soon the pain swallowed any other sensation.

The feeling expanded inside of my chest until I thought it would burst.

A voice said my name, but a screaming sound in my ears drowned everything out and I clutched my head in effort to stop it. I forgot myself as my skin seemed to transform into smoldering ash, my blood to molten fire.

My world became white, hot, shrieking oblivion.

And then… there was nothing.

* * *

 **Epilogue  
**

* * *

Dappled sunlight played across my bare legs. A warm breeze passed between the towering, ancient trees, rustling the foliage in the canopy above. Birdsong permeated my surroundings, a tuneless musical chittering that was once familiar, but was now alien to my ears. The scent of life, green and fresh and earthy, enveloped me. Familiar smells, sounds, sights, once relegated to abstract memory made themselves known to me once more. I should have felt something, but as it had been for the past weeks following our arrival on Yavin IV, I felt nothing.

All of it felt empty. My regular senses could not bring depth to a universe that had lost its fundamental substance. Without the Force, my waking moments had become a constant struggle between accepting the nature of my new reality and rebelling against the apparent façade of it.

In one hand I held a datapad, a loan from the new settlement's archives, the other toyed with the chrome necklace at my throat. A thumb passed over the cloudy grey crystal set into the custom bezel on the front, but I sensed nothing from that either. Droll data on the Republic's return to power after the destruction of the Empire was interspersed with involuntary mental images of my last sight of Captain Phasma.

It was the only time I felt something now, remembering the look on her face when she said goodbye to me, when she said she would not forget what I had done for her, when I refused to respond. Maybe that was why I found myself lingering on it often. Because even feelings such as pain and regret were better than nothing. I shook it away and watched with detachment as a small forest animal rooted through the fallen leaves on the forest floor a few yards away from me.

I was not whole.

Something had happened to me the moment Starkiller Base fell. I learned later that, by some process of the thermal oscillator's destruction and lack of functional failsafes, a chain reaction had been triggered that caused all solid matter to be swallowed by the stolen energy of the sun. Fusion and fission at an atomic level had transformed the former planet, and everyone and everything in it, into a new star. The moment I lost consciousness, my ties to the Force had been severed.

I had never realized how much the Force, and my connection with it, had given depth to the universe around me, even before I'd known that was what it was. Without it, everything felt flat. False. The people in it were more like characters in a holovid than actual human beings. And Captain Phasma… while the person I'd woken to see on the freighter with me looked and sounded like the woman I knew, and perhaps even loved, she hadn't _felt_ like her.

And so I did not say goodbye.

It wasn't until days after our group of survivors had parted ways at a neutral spaceport that I considered the possibility that this was not a dream. Which meant that I had been undeservedly cruel to Phasma. And meant that I might never see her again to make amends.

So she had left, with help from others, to contact and rejoin the remnants of the First Order's forces. I knew that by saving her life, I had only strengthened the very organization from which I had defected, but I didn't care.

I closed the datapad, unable to concentrate. Even by myself as I was, the ambient noise of my surroundings was difficult to tune out when my life had been spent within durasteel walls with nothing to hear in my quiet moments but the hum of distant electronics and the deliberate silence of other slaves.

I stood up and brushed myself off. In a disconnected sort of way, I enjoyed the clothing I'd been assigned by refugee services, shorts, sleeveless tunic, long duster. No shoes. Nothing else was necessary in such a temperate climate, and I enjoyed the rough, sharp surface of the ground beneath my feet. The pain of a twig or rock poking the soft, uncalloused soles of my feet served as a welcome reminder that I was alive.

My walk back to town, or the section of town that the local authorities had set aside for refugees, was too short. I was soon amongst the busy populace as it went about daily life. This was not the same settlement where I'd been born. This town was larger, and further into the day side of the tidally-locked forest moon. Someday I might visit the ruins of my past life, but today I simply wanted to refill my rations and request another datapad from the archives. Perhaps one on introductory astrophysics.

But as weaving my way through the crowds became more difficult, I could see that a sizable collection of colonists and refugees had gathered to see something. I used my height to peer between two people. Far ahead, before the large, domed structure that was the colony's starship hangar and repair facility, I saw a group of people facing the crowd. I could make out no more detail than the bright orange of a flightsuit. I could not hear what was being said over the dull murmurs of the crowd.

Despite my better judgment, I found myself creeping closer to listen. When there were no more than half a dozen people between me and the focal point of the gathering, I halted and observed.

"General Organa knows the loss you feel," a male voice said. Part of me began to wake up as I realized that I knew this voice. "This war brought destruction to the galaxy on a scale that hasn't been seen since before the Empire. No matter what side you were on, we are now united in our grief."

Unable to stop myself, I rose to my full height, peering around the Rodian in front of me to see the speaker. A shock coursed through me when I saw the intense brown eyes and thick, dark curls of Poe Dameron. As I'd suspected, he was far more handsome without blood and sweat on his face. My heart began to race, and while I tried to conceal myself, I couldn't look away.

"The Resistance needs your help now more than ever," he continued. "To bring peace to the galaxy once and for all."

"The First Order's gone!" someone shouted from the back of the crowd. Poe turned toward the voice, his brow knitting, his eyes smoldering with resolute fire.

"The First Order is still out there," he said. "Snoke's shadow has retreated, but it is not gone. He's just waiting for the right time to return. He's done it before, and he'll do it again." A murmur passed through the crowd. Poe's eyes moved over the faces as though addressing every person individually. In a moment of terror, I saw them land on me, but then he looked past.

"That is why General Leia Organa and the remaining members of the Republic council, has offered a pardon to any and all former members of the First Order that are willing to join us." The murmurs rose to a low roar. Poe gave it a moment before continuing. "Any information you have, no matter how insignificant it might seem, could help us prevent more tragedy."

The crowd began to speak amongst itself. I spotted the faces of Seven and Armata standing some distance away from me, together as they always seemed to be now. In the center of the crowd, I could see that there were others with Poe Dameron, but I could not see them for the onlookers standing in my way. I rose to my full height again to get a better look. Two women, including a Resistance officer and a Republic official, stood on either side of him. A tall man in robes stood behind him, but I couldn't see his face as his back was turned. Poe continued speaking, and the crowd seemed to quiet automatically, as taken in by this man's natural charisma as I was.

"It doesn't matter who you were before. It doesn't matter what you did. If you're here, that means that you escaped the destruction of Starkiller Base. It means that you have a chance to do some good." I heard whispers break out.

"How?" someone called. I recognized the voice as Seven. It sounded closer.

The Resistance officer held up a datapad in her hands. "All you have to do is sign up here with your former First Order designation, name, and position. Your case will be reviewed for pardon immediately and someone from the Resistance will be in contact with you as soon as possible."

"What if you're just trying to hunt us down?" another voice cried out from the back. Discontent erupted around me. I was bumped by an elbow and hemmed in tighter as agitated crowd members began talking amongst themselves.

"No one is going to make you sign up," Poe raised his voice over the crowd, his eyes zeroing in on the source of the dissenting voice somewhere behind me, and the noise lessened. "Whether you do this is your choice, and your choice only. But I promise you this: the Resistance is only interested in ending the war. We want peace, for everyone. We want our lives back."

Poe began walking slowly, his face becoming more impassioned as he spoke to the now silent, raptly attentive audience.

"For some, war is all you've ever known." His eyes flickered to me again, but instead of moving on, this time they remained on me. My face burned, and my heart skipped a beat. "I can tell you that there is so much more out there." And just like that, he looked away again. I shrank back and tried to slink away but came face to face with an impassable wall of spectators. "But we have to stand together. Please, help us stop Snoke and the First Order from rising again. Please, help us bring peace to the galaxy once more."

With that, the voice of the people began to rise again. The figures around me began to move as some in the crowd made their way to the front, to the officer with the datapad. I was jostled and pushed forward despite my efforts to sneak away and leave, and the movements of the audience threatened to knock me down and force me to the fore.

I stopped trying to be careful and just began shoving people aside, swimming against the current to get myself away as quickly as possible, my plans to visit the archives forgotten.

The crowd thinned toward the back, and I took a deep breath, my eyes on the tree line behind the nearest buildings.

"Hey, you," a voice said behind me. "Water girl."

I froze where I stood, feeling the blood rush away from my face. Slowly, I turned to face him, my mind blanking in fear. A small, crooked smile was on Poe Dameron's lips as he regarded me with cool eyes.

"Aren't you going to sign up?" he asked me, brushing the hair away from his forehead. Blood returned to my face with such alarming alacrity that I felt faint.

I stuttered, my voice coming out choked. Rapidly, I looked around myself for a quick exit, but saw none. My palms sweated and my mouth was dry. Seeing my fear, Poe's smirk dropped away and his eyes softened.

"Hey, it's okay," he said in a calming tone of voice, raising a hand in a placating gesture. "It's alright. Don't be afraid. No one's going to hurt you. I just saw you in the crowd and I thought you might want to help us."

I forced my mind to slow, swallowed hard, blinked once slowly as I willed my panic to go away. I took a deep breath and when I opened my eyes again, the subtle smile had returned to his face. A small, unexpected flutter in my stomach only added to my unsteadiness. He looked like someone who smiled often.

"What's your name?" he asked me, his posture relaxing. Behind him, I could see most of the crowd begin to disperse while others gathered more tightly around the center.

"Riala," I answered, and then amended, "I mean… that's what it was. I don't know what my name was before. That is, what it was before the Order-" My words tumbled out and I closed my mouth to stop the flow. He granted me with a small laugh, and I felt a wave of warmth pass from my scalp to my toes.

"Is it okay if I just call you Riala?" he asked. I nodded. "Look, you don't have to do anything. Like I said, this is your choice. But I think you might know something, about Snoke, about Kylo Ren, that could be valuable to the Resistance." His voice dropped and his eyes seemed to become larger, more intense, and I felt the bustling town fade around us. "Riala, _we_ _need_ _you_."

I remember nodding mutely. I remember him offering his hand, and me taking it. I remember feeling his warm, dry palm against my sweaty one, and that he didn't seem to care. I let him lead me back toward the crowd. I was less scared now with his hand on mine. At that moment, helping the Resistance fight Snoke seemed like the only thing I could have done, especially when confronted with the force of nature that was ace pilot Poe Dameron.

A data pad was placed in my hand and as I poised to input my slave designation, I heard an exclamation of shock. I looked up to see that the tall man in the robes was gawking at me. His skin was fairer than mine, his face bearded, but his eyes, brown edged with a ring of grey, were like looking into a mirror.

"Necerii?" he uttered in a deep voice. A wave of shivers passed over me when I heard the name. "Necerii Rho? Can it be?"

Beside me, I saw Poe look back and forth between myself and the man.

"Garot, do you know her?"

Garot. Where did I know that name?

My brother.

"'Cerii, it _is_ you!" the man exclaimed, stepping forward suddenly and then stopping as if uncertain. I was frozen in place but my mind was hurtling forward into a thousand different directions. Garot. But the bodies. The corpse pyres. Now I couldn't be sure of what I saw all those years ago. My mother, I definitely saw her get shot in the chest by a blaster bolt. But everything else seemed shaky, uncertain. Garot, my older brother. He was fourteen years old when I was taken, barely a man. Certainly not as tall, not as bearded. Tears were forming in his eyes, but he was hesitant, looking at me as though I were a ghost, or something insubstantial that might vanish when touched.

"I thought she looked familiar," Poe said. His voice was muffled over the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears.

I didn't understand the words. I didn't understand anything. Without the Force to give my senses substance, it still felt like a dream. I didn't want it to be a dream.

"Where were you?" I asked. My voice sounded harder than I meant it to be, but then I could feel a small spark of anger flaring inside of me. "Where were you when I was taken away?"

Garot's eyes softened. Moisture spilled over, and he fidgeted with the long, draped sleeves of his fine robes. They looked expensive. Important.

"'Cerii, please understand, it was so long ago. I was so young. I've… never forgiven myself. For not stopping them from taking you. Or Helia."

"Helia? She died with everyone else," I said sharply. Garot shook his head. I felt my anger flare at this, but without the Gaze it was inert and toothless, just a scowl.

"No, Necerii… she didn't. It wasn't like that at all. Please, let's go somewhere quiet." His round eyes grew larger, fat droplets trailing down and collecting in his neat brown beard. "I… can't believe it's really you."

"Maybe it's not me," I said, spite making my words barbed. "I died that day. I am not Necerii."

I didn't understand what I was feeling at that moment. It was too much. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to curl up and cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to touch his face and see that he was real. I wanted to wake up. Everything that had been missing from me over the last couple of weeks came rushing back with intensity that I couldn't handle.

A large, warm hand touched my shoulder and I turned my anger toward its owner. It was Poe. The pity in his eyes was too much. I shrugged out from under his hand and took myself away as quickly as possible, feeling myself grow hotter and more frantic with each step. My family wasn't dead. Garot. Helia? What had he meant? What if he were lying? What if it were a trick? I tried to remember that day, but aside from what I'd managed to dig up in my meditations, I could remember no specific details. I knew my mother was dead. But the others? Father? Garot was alive. Poe had known him. Maybe they'd grown up together.

I found myself standing at the edge of the trees. I wanted to run into them and keep running until I found the border between day and night. And then I thought of Garot. He had my eyes, the same eyes that had seen the burning of our settlement, the slaughter of its citizens. _I've never forgiven myself_ , he said. I swiped away the hot tears streaming down my face as I imagined his grief and his loss. I could see that he did not resemble my father, but he was unmistakably my brother.

I leaned against the wall of the building, sobbing. The crack of a twig made me turn around.

Garot stood there, a few yards away, looking the picture of helpless guilt and grief. We looked at one another for a long moment.

"'Cerii," he started. Without meaning to, I found myself going toward him. His arms opened and then he folded me into them. His warm, soft robes surrounded me as he embraced me tightly, and I began to cry against his chest, quaking with the force of it. My sadness began to swell and change into something else. Taller than me, he easily kissed the top of my head as he held me close.

"Somehow," he said in a measured, even tone meant only for me. "Somehow we were meant to find each other. I can feel it."

All I knew was that at that moment, nothing else mattered.

For the first time in sixteen years, I felt safe.

I was home.

* * *

 **Dedication** : thank you to my secret editor and fellow rabid fangirl bff who always demanded more sweaty kylo, JB-007, and always managed to pull me out of the mire of writer's block on so many occasions and who helped write this story. She helped make it waaaay better than it was going to be, believe me. Thank you to Lucasfilm and JJ Abrams whose vision of the Star Wars universe gave me new life and new inspiration and ladyboners for days. Thank you to Domhnall Gleeson for being beautiful and for Adam Driver for making Kylo Ren so delightfully slappable. And thank you, dear readers, for offering encouragement both in the forefront in the comments and in the background with faves and subs and kudos and view numbers. You've helped me finish what I started.  
Even if it took me 9 months. (I guess this really is my baby)

I guess now that it's actually finished I can say without shame that I fully intend to keep writing in this universe (that is, the *mostly* canon universe where Riala exists) though I may not only stick to this period in galactic history, or exclusively to her story or POV. *cough*rogueone*coughcough* There are so many questions that will be answered in the upcoming period between episodes, so basically, I fully intend to tie up all of the loose ends I've put in there. I just might need to take a break first.

thank you again.

3

* * *

 _Default by Atoms for Peace_

It slipped my mind  
And for a time  
I felt completely free

A world of trouble  
Silent double  
A pawn into a queen

I laugh now  
But later's not so easy  
I've gotta stop  
The will is strong  
But the flesh is weak  
I guess that's it  
I've made my bed  
And I lie in it

I'm still hanging on  
Bird upon a wire  
I fall between the waves

I avoid your gaze  
I turn out of phase  
A pawn into a queen  
But it's eating me up  
It's eating me up


End file.
